As long as the sun keeps rising
by KeikoHPfan
Summary: The war is over. Four years of peace. Four years of near-nothingness for Draco. Until he meets Harry bloody Potter again. Could he do something right for once? Is he even able to? And will Harry accept his help? DH compliant, except for the epilogue. Will be slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past violence and abuse

**AN: **I'm back with a new story! I hope you'll like it... Tell me what you think, please!

Draco cannot think of anything else, and it's driving him crazy. Why in the name of Salazar can't he just forget about the whole thing? Of course not. It's Harry Potter, isn't it? Nobody could just forget about him. Fuck. Draco leans back in his leather chair, not trying anymore to read the files his secretary has brought him. He closes his eyes, remembering what happened this morning.

He had been in St Mungo's to visit his mother, like he does every day. After the end of the war, Narcissa became more and more withdrawn and quiet. She and Lucius were condemned to house arrest in Malfoy's Manor after the war – and Draco had known from the very beginning it would be very hard for her. After all what happened there, how could it be otherwise? He had bought a flat in Muggle London as soon as he could, not able to live in that damn house with all the memories. Only Lucius was mad enough to find it alright. That fucking sadistic asshole. And his mother… Draco sighs. Narcissa had always been a beautiful and proud woman and he had thought her strong enough to survive everything. He had been wrong, obviously. She has been in St Mungo's psychiatric ward for months now, and despite all the money Draco gives to the Hospital with the foolish hope the Healers will forget who his mother is, there has not been any improvement in her condition.

On his way back, he had heard familiar voices coming from a room. The door had been slightly ajar, and Draco had just peeked inside. Weasley and Granger were talking with a Healer, and in front of the small window, a raven haired man in a wheelchair was staring blankly outside. Harry Potter. What the hell had happened to him? Draco knew from the newspapers that he had been injured during his last Auror mission, but he had not supposed it was that bad. Granger was visibly upset – she was looking better than in their school days, her hair tied up in a high ponytail and dressed in nice purple robes. The Weasel on the contrary was red faced, his tall and muscular frame hovering above the Healer in what was certainly supposed to be a threatening way. Draco briefly thought he looked as ridiculous as ever, but then the Healer spoke, in a quiet and sad voice.

"Look, I know you're worried. Believe me, we've done all we can. Physically, he'll be alright soon enough. It's just a matter of time until he can walk again, provided he works properly with the physiotherapist."

"Why doesn't he talk at all? Was it another spell we didn't know about?" Granger sounded like she was about to cry. Draco had to admit, Potter had always had loyal friends. Fucking annoying, but loyal.

"I have no idea. There's nothing wrong with his mouth, his throat or his vocal cords. I reckon it's only a psychic reaction. Sometimes when someone is badly shocked, things like that happen. I don't know why it happens now, we all know that Mr. Potter has survived much harder events, but maybe it was too much, this time. We need to be patient. I would recommend for him to stay here, to rest in a calm environment. We have a very good Mind and Soul Specialist here in St Mungo's, Healer Wright. I'll ask him to visit Mr. Potter as soon as possible."

"Oh… In the Muggle world, we call it psychiatrist. I think it's a good idea, in fact…"

Draco stopped listening there, because Potter had moved. He was making his magical wheelchair move in direction of the door. Draco quickly backpedaled, trying to look natural when Potter exited the door and came his way. The man looked surprisingly fit, even if he seemed to be still smaller than Draco. The half-starved boy Draco remembered from school is definitely gone. He weared slight silver framed glasses, and he was rather handsome, Draco supposed, with his strong jaw, straight nose and nicely shaped lips. The green eyes settled on him, widening a moment in recognition, before getting dull and lost again. Potter had nodded stiffly, a half smile on his lips, and then he was gone, leaving Draco in the white hallway wondering what the hell had happened to the bloody Savior.

And since this morning, Draco keeps playing the scene over and over again in his head. It had been seven kinds of wrong. As irritating as the Boy Who Lived had been in school, he had always been intensely alive – especially through his green eyes. The man he had seen this morning wasn't Harry Potter. It wasn't the fighter, the brave and reckless idiotic Griffyndor Draco remembered. That wasn't the powerful and strong wizard who saved them all. Draco cannot accept that Potter stays in this state, barely the shadow of the man he once was. It's wrong, somehow. And who more than Potter deserves his help?

Because as much as Draco had despised Potter in school, he can't deny it: the man had saved them from the darkest wizard ever, at barely seventeen, and he had saved Draco from the fire in the Room of Requirement, too. Draco is twice indebted to him. And Malfoys always pay their debts. That's one of the only lesson his father taught him as a child that Draco actually observes now. Besides, he simply doesn't like the idea of being indebted to Potter.

He has to do something about it. Tomorrow, he will try to see Potter again after his daily visit to his mother. He's sure he can annoy the Savior enough to make him talk again and glare at him with this green gaze of his. Draco smirks and opens the first file in front of him again. Now that he has a plan, he can work again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past violence and abuse

**AN: **I forgot to say it before, but for those who didn't read my first fic, English is not my mother tongue, so I'm sorry for the grammatical errors! Here's the chapter 2, R&R please!

As it is, Draco's not sure he will be able to visit Potter. It's a bad day for his mother – actually it's possibly the worse day Draco ever witnessed. Narcissa is clinging to him desperately, muttering incoherently about the war, the Dark Lord and his father. The plump nurse who usually takes care of her during the week tries to make her sit and eat her breakfast gently, her voice soft and soothing . That's one of the few things Draco has managed to negotiate with St Mungo's: to have this particular nurse taking care of his mother. Nurse Mary has always been nice to Narcissa, treating her gently and with respect from the very first day. Even if she knows who the blonde and frail woman is. Even if she's a Muggle-born witch and has every right to hate them. Draco doesn't really understand, but he's grateful nonetheless. Nurse Mary looks up with her kind brown eyes, and whispers to him.

"Draco, I think you should leave now. She's worried about you today, and she won't calm down as long as she sees you. I'm sorry, hopefully it won't last."

"It's not your fault. I'll see you tomorrow. And… Thanks, Mary."

She smiles brightly and waves at him, as always. It's new to him, this type of relationship. Mary doesn't want anything from him. Of course, she's doing her job taking care of his mother, but it goes far beyond that. Mary is a truly kind person, and they have a friendship of sorts. When he thinks about it, she's probably his only true friend, the only one who has no ulterior motives, who seems to simply really enjoy spending time with him. They often talk about their lives on the days when Narcissa is quiet. It's nice to have someone like that. Draco thanks her every day – even if he doesn't know exactly why he's thanking her. That's another thing that's new to him. Thanking people. Draco sighs and leaves the room, hoping Mary will succeed in reassuring his mother enough to make her eat a little. She's way too thin these days.

Draco doesn't know if it's a good idea to go and try to piss off the Savior today. He's still shaken from his visit to his mother. But at the same time, it could be a nice distraction. He hesitates a moment in front of the blue door, and jumped slightly when someone touches his shoulder.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't want to startle you. Are you here to see Mr. Potter? "

"Erm… I suppose." Draco look at the Healer. It's the one from yesterday, the petite woman who was talking to Granger and Weasley. "I… I'm an old schoolmate. I learned he was here while I was visiting my mother, so I thought I could maybe see him, too."

Well, there really were schoolmates. Or rivals. Enemies. Whatever they were.

"It's nice from you, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco winces. Of course she would recognize him. She doesn't look hostile, though, just curious. She has piercing and clear blue eyes and she's looking at him like she's trying to read his mind. Draco raises his occlumency shields out of habit, but he decides to be honest.

"Look, we didn't get along in school, but I respect him. I saw him yesterday, and, well. I thought I could try to make him angry enough to shout at me or try to hex me. To bring him back. Just a few words of me used to make him mad."

She seems to think about it, and Draco shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot. Perhaps it has been a bad idea to come, after all.

Finally, she seems to reach a decision, and she opens the door.

"Mr. Potter? There's someone for you." Then she turns to face him, her face stern and her eyes cold. "You've got ten minutes. Do not harm him in any way or I'll make you regret it."

Draco wants to snort, but he just walks past her and enters the room. Potter is exactly as the same place as he was yesterday, in front of the window. If he has heard the Healer introducing Draco, he doesn't show it, still looking through the window, apparently lost in thought. He looks strangely vulnerable, seated in his magical wheelchair in the dimly lighted hospital room. Draco feels his resolve strengthening: this is not right, and if he can do something about it, he will.

"Potter? Do you hear me?"

Draco feels a bit stupid, but Potter slowly makes his wheelchair turn around, surprise written all over his face. Well, at least he's reacting. Draco puts his best smirk on his own features, and sees something briefly flash in the green eyes.

"Well, I won't say good morning, since it's obviously not the case for you. So, tell me, Potter: who did finally manage to break you? I have to congratulate him or her."

Potter's face reveals nothing. He's looking straight at Draco, his green gaze unwavering, but it's as if he doesn't hear – or understand – the spoken words. Fuck. This will be harder than expected.

"Merlin, Potter, are you really mute? Not that I complain, mind you, you never were particularly articulate, so this new development can only be an improvement. At least you're not able to voice your stupid thoughts anymore. If only I knew what was done to you, I could try the same on the Weasel."

Potter's eyes flash briefly again. Ah. So he's more receptive to attacks on his friends than to ones on himself. Draco rolls his eyes. Gryffindors, honestly.

"I saw your two side-kicks yesterday. The Weasel is looking as moronic as ever. How can Granger stand him is beyond me, frankly. I mean, she's looking as if she's got hay for hair, but at least she has brains and knows how to use them. The same cannot be said about the red head."

Potter is watching him closely, now, slowly blinking, his head slightly cocked to the side, as if he's trying to understand Draco. Well, at least that's a reaction.

"So, Potter, tell me. What the hell happened to the Weaselette? I read you two broke up, but there wasn't any convincing reason. She was pretty enough, even with the Weasley hair. So what? Did she find you in bed with one of your fangirls?"

Potter smiles. It's a strange and hollow smile that doesn't reach his eyes but it's a smile nonetheless.

"No, that's not it. You were always too much of a Gryffindor to have a sordid affair on the side. But maybe you weren't able to satisfy her? Trouble to get it up, Potter?" Draco winces at the rudeness of his question. It's distasteful and vulgar, but he hopes it will be enough to piss the Golden Boy off.

"Malfoy, get out now before I hex you into the next century."

Oh, just perfect. Draco doesn't even need to turn around to know who has just spoken behind him.

"Weasley, I'm delighted to see you."

Well, that will be fun. Or not.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past violence and abuse

**AN: **Thanks to my reviewers and followers! Here's chapter 3! Please R&R!

The Weasel is watching him with big blue eyes, his wand drawn and pointed straight to his chest. Granger is nowhere to be seen, which is a pity since she's more likely to understand the situation than the big idiot. Draco sighs and prays for strength.

"I said get out, Malfoy."

"I heard you the first time, Weasley. But that doesn't mean I will comply. Potter's Healer knows I'm here, she agreed to it."

"Did she agree that you insult and mock him? I don't care what she said, I want you out now. You won't hurt Harry."

"I know it's hard for you, Weasley, but use your brains a little. Would I be so obvious if I wanted to hurt him? The Healer knows I'm here, I didn't lock the door or try to hide in any way. I'm sure you're not as stupid as you look."

Weasley takes a step forward and his wand nearly touches Draco's chest. He begins to feel uncomfortable, truth to be told. He can't harm the other man, not even in self-defense – Weasley is a war-hero, an Auror and Potter's best friend, noboby would believe Draco didn't attack first. There's suddenly a warm hand on his forearm, and then Potter's wheelchair silently moves in front of Draco, forcing Weasley to step back. Potter shakes his head frantically, and even if Draco can't see his eyes, he knows he's looking a his best friend. Who's gaping like a goldfish in a rather funny way. Draco nearly snorts at the sight, before he remembers it's probably not the best course of action right now.

"Mate, it's Malfoy!" Weasley spats it as if it's the only explanation they need. With his hateful scowl, he could as well have said 'it's Voldemort'. "Look, you're not in your right mind and-"

Oh. That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Raw magic is swirling around Potter, making Draco's skin errupt in gosebumps. Fucking hell. The bloody Savior is really powerful. And he's still able to become very, very angry. Draco fights the urge to smirk at Weasley, who's looking slightly frightened now.

"Harry, calm down, mate. Do you really want Malfoy here? I mean... I heard what he said about you and Ginny..."

Potter seems to think about it, as his magic is slowly receeding, and he turns his head to look at Draco. The green eyes aren't so dull anymore, but there's so much pain in them that Draco wants to look away. No wonder Potter has locked himself in his own mind. The raven haired man's looking a bit lost, his gaze wandering from his best friend to his old school rival. Draco is sure of one thing: he will do what Potter wants him to do.

"Potter? If you want me to go, I'll leave now. I'm not here to hurt you more than you already are."

"Then why are you here, Malfoy? And why did you say those things when I came in?"

Draco really wants to punch the idiot in the face. But that would be counterproductive. It's tempting, though. He doesn't move, keeping his eyes on Potter's because the only opinion that matters is his. Just as he thinks that Potter is back to his zombie-like state, the half-smile is back, and Potter nods briefly.

"You want me to stay?" Draco has to be sure, and he has to be certain that the Weasel gets it too. Potter nods again.

"Harry, I really don't think it's a good idea, Healer Wright said you should rest and not face any stress, and-"

But Potter isn't listening anymore. He has taken Draco's hand and leads him outside of the room. Draco is torn between the childish need to cheer just to see Weasley's face and the slight worry at the idea of following the most powerful wizard to an unknown place. It doesn't help that said most powerful wizard seems to be a bit crazy these days. It's a bit strange to hold the hand of Potter, whose wheelchair glides silently through the hallways. Strange, but not unpleasant. Potter's skin is warm, and the grip is firm but not hurtful. He is just beginning to relax when Potter abruptly stops in front of a door, and looks up at Draco. And Draco feels like throwing up, because he knows that door very well. It's his mother's. Potter opens the door quietly, and makes his chair moves until he's in front of Narcissa. Mary looks up and greets him warmly, as if it's completely normal that Harry fucking Potter visits Draco's mother in St Mungo's psychiatric ward. Then it hits Draco. It's not the first time. Potter has done it before.

"Mr Potter! How are you today? Narcissa, look who's there? I'll make tea for the three of us." Mary turns around and spots Draco, and she stays frozen for a moment. "Draco? You're still here? She's calm now, do you want to have tea with us?"

"Mary... How often does Potter come here?"

"Every day since he's been injured."

"Why didn't you tell me about it?" Draco feels a bit angry now. Mary has the decency to blush, but stands her ground and looks steadily at him.

"Because I figured you wouldn't be so happy about it, and I didn't want you to forbid the visits. Look... I know you're not exactly friends, but... He's good to her. And she doesn't get any other visits, just you and him. Draco... Just look at them."

And Draco does. Narcissa is quietly whispering to Potter, and she's looking happier than Draco has seen her in months. He's a bit jealous that he's not the one to put that expression on her face, but at the same time it's so good to see her like that that it actually hurts a little. Potter just nods from time to time, with that strange and empty smile of his, a blank expression on his face. But he's listening to Narcissa, and it seems to be enough for her. Potter suddenly looks straight at Draco, and there's curiosity and warmth and understanding in his eyes, just for a blissful second, and it's so wrong.

It's wrong because all this isn't supposed to be about Draco. It's supposed to be about Potter. It's wrong because Draco doesn't derserve this kind of look, and especially not from Potter. It's wrong because Draco doesn't want to think of his own pain. It's buried deep inside of him, with his guilt and his remorses and all the awful things that used to keep him awake at night.

Draco flees.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past violence and abuse

**AN:** FF was driving me crazy yesterday, hopefully it will be better today! But that's also why you've got two chapters today! Enjoy and review!

He's a fucking coward. Always had been. Always will be, it seems. Shit. Draco bangs his head against the desk of his flat. Unable to face a working day in his office, he has settled for sending an owl to his secretary and work a little from home. As if he's able to work at all today. All he can do it thinking again and again of Potter's look, and his mother's happy face, and Mary's words.

But isn't what happened exactly what he wanted to? To force Potter to react? To put some emotion back in his eyes, in place of this horrifying blank look? Is even he able to help Potter, when he's so overwhelmed himself? But at the same time... Draco feels like he has no choice. Not like you're forced to do things against your will. More like you know if you don't do those things, you'll never forgive yourself. If you don't, you'll never be whole again. He stands up to brew himself a cup of tea. He knows he will be back to St Mungo's tomorrow morning. He has to.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Draco can barely believe his own eyes. Mary has warned him just a few minutes ago, but it's something else to see it. It can't be. How dare they? His anger is choking him, and he can feel his face heat.

"It's awful, isn't it?"

Granger is standing beside him, looking through the glass wall with tears in her eyes. Awful? No, that would be a fucking understatement. It's revolting, it's horrifying.

"Was there nothing you could have done to avoid it?"

"No. I told them not to, I even tried to bring Harry home with me, but..." She chokes back a sob. Draco knows he's probably supposed to comfort her, but he has no idea how. That's not the sort of thing he was taught. So he decides to talk to her instead.

"What happened?"

"A burst of uncontrolled and raw magic. It hit Healer Wright, he's slightly injured. I'm sure something happened that caused Harry to lose control, that Healer must have said something. But he was the only one with him and, well, he's the best Mind and Soul specialist... But I know Harry, he wouldn't hurt someone on purpose."

"No, he wouldn't."

Draco feels Granger's gaze on him, but he can't tear his eyes from the room behind the glass wall. The room where Potter is laying on a bed, bound by his ankles and wrists. He seems to be asleep, but Draco knows he was probably fed a Sleeping Draught. His hospital pajamas look very thin and there are no sheets or blankets on him. Potter must be cold, Draco thinks, and his anger flares again.

How dare they do that to him?

"I don't know, Draco." Draco looks at Granger, bewildered. Shit. Has he actually said that out loud? She goes on, looking calmer now – and angrier, too. "I asked them yesterday. They don't care. I think they're afraid of him."

She takes a deep breath and seems to steel herself.

"Draco... I know you don't like me, but you seem to care about what happens to Harry. I need your help."

"What?"

Draco must look horrified, because Granger rolls her eyes with a sigh.

"I know I'm just a Mudblood to you and-"

"Don't say that word. It's mean and it's cruel. I... I apologize for all the horrible things I used to say to you in school." Granger stares at him with wide eyes. "Why would you need my help? I'm not exactly... well liked. Anything I would say would make the whole thing worse, in fact."

"I don't want you to say anything." She looks around them, and takes his arm, leading him away. They step into the lift, and Granger casts some Silencing and Privacy Charms, even if they're alone. Clever girl, that one.

"I want to get Harry out of here. I don't think he'll get any better with how they're treating him. I can't take him home, because they'll look there first. But... Nobody will suspect you, you and Harry used to hate each other, you have no reason to help him. And besides... Ron doesn't understand. He trusts the Healers, and he won't want to do anything illegal. And he's an Auror, I can't ask it of him. I need you, because you're clever and cunning, you've got a Slytherin mind. And you're a good liar – I'm an horrible one."

"I guess I could take him to-"

"Don't! I don't want to know! This way I won't be able to say anything, and I won't even need to lie. It'll be safer. If Harry would, er, disappear, I'd know it's you, I'd know he'll be safe, that's enough."

"You would trust me with Potter's health and safety? Have you completely lost your mind?"

Granger actually looks offended, and she hits him none too gently on the upper arm with her small hand.

"Of course not. Look, Ron told me what happened yesterday, and unlike him I understand what you were trying to do. Please Draco... I know you won't hurt him. And you owe him a life-debt. Harry saved you from the Fiendfyre in Hogwarts."

"How very Slytherin of you, Granger!"

"I have my moments." Her cheeks are pink but she doesn't look away, and Draco musts admit he's impressed. Not only she's smart, but she's brave and humble enough to know when to ask for help. "So, will you help Harry?"

"Of course I will. Malfoys always pay their debts."

Granger actually smirks with a knowing look and kisses his cheek before stepping out the lift, leaving Draco to gape in a very Weasley-ish manner. The world must be coming to an end.

Draco straightens his clothes and clears his throat, before stepping out the lift and apparating home. He needs to plan everything perfectly. And he has to act quickly, because there's no way he will let Potter there longer than necessary. Granger has said she trusts him. He doesn't really understand how she can, but he won't disappoint her. Besides, it will be quite amusing to be the only knowing where the Savior is. Weasley would probably have an aneurism if he ever learns the truth.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past violence and abuse

**AN:** Keeping the rate with one chapter a day. Review, please? You'll make me happy. And happy authors write better ^^

All has gone so smoothly that Draco can barely believe it. Of course, Potter's incredible luck might have something to do with it. After his usual visit to his mother – who was thankfully very quiet today – Draco had seemingly leaved St Mungo's, just to get back in under a strong Disillusionment Charm, as well as a Silencing Charm. He had quietly waited near Potter's locked glass room until his Healer came to check on him, and then quickly got after her. As soon as she was gone he had freed Potter from his magical bounds and apparated them both away, first to a dark corner of Knockturn Alley, and then to his flat, to avoid being followed. Draco's able to conceal his magical signature since he's eleven thanks to his madman of a father, and it has been proven useful today.

The Boy-Who-Lived is still sound asleep, tucked under thick and soft blankets in the guestroom's bed of his Muggle London flat. Potter is pale and slightly sick looking, and Draco has found him lighter that he should have been as he has put him in bed, but he seems healthy enough. Hopefully he will recover quickly and disappear from Draco's life.

Yeah. Right.

Draco closes the door softly, and calls his house-elf, Debby, to let her instructions about his guest. If Debby is surprised, she hides it well, just nodding from time to time and bowing deeply before she disappears with a clap of her long fingers. Draco has to go to the office. He has to act as normal as possible. He sighs, hoping he has not made a huge mistake. Only time will tell now.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Draco comes back home late, tired and irritated. The day has been so bad at work that he's nearly forgot about Potter. After the war, Draco's been doing his best to stay out of trouble. His father's companies had been closed after the trial – much to Draco's relief, because there was no way he would have taken his father's succession and managed his horrible Dark Arts businesses. So with what was left of his inheritance, he has rent a small office, hired a secretary and started buying and selling potions ingredients. Legal potions ingredients. To be honest, he's not doing so well. Former associates of his father want him to go on with Lucius' business, and the rest of the world simply doesn't want to buy anything from a Malfoy. Draco doesn't even know why he's bothering to work at all. He should just give up, and try to make his money last as long as he can. But there's his mother, and there's his pride, too. He wants to prove them all that he's not his father.

But sometimes he's tired of fighting so hard. Sometimes he's tired of being lonely. Lonely because his secretary barely speaks to him – she's a former Slytherin, too, but her parents were conveniently neutral during the war and she's always looking at him like he's some kind of repulsive bug. Lonely because his friends from school are dead or have fled the country, or are trying to make forget who they were and don't want to be seen with him. Lonely because his mother is not herself anymore, and he doesn't talk to his father.

Debby greets him as usual and takes his cloak.

"Good evening, Master Draco. Debby has prepared dinner, but maybe Master Draco wants to see his guest first? Mr. Potter is awake now."

"Oh! Yes Debby. Has he eaten yet? No? Then please bring our dinner in Mr. Potter's room, we have things to discuss."

Debby bows – Draco doesn't know how many times he has asked her not to do that. But there's no use in discussing with house-elves, they're as stubborn as... Potter.

Debby's been right, he's awake. He's sitting in his bed, several pillows between his back and the wooden bedhead. He looks straight at Draco when he gets in, and there's surprise and worry in the green eyes.

"Good, you're awake. How do you feel? Right, I suppose I should tell you what happened. So, it seems you've gone a bit out of control yesterday, and those stupid Healers found nothing best to do than to restrain and drug you. So Granger asked for my help, since there was nothing she could have done on her own, and here you are. Always trying to get attention, aren't you, Potter?"

After a few seconds, Potter's half-smile is on his lips, and he seems to understand.

"Anyway, welcome to my flat. It's actually in Muggle London, so we should be left in peace. Nobody knows about this place anyway. Has Debby fed you lunch?"

Potter looks at him with wide eyes. Then he blinks.

"Debby? My house-elf?"

Potter's face lights up in recognition and Draco supposes it answers his question. Just at this moment, Debby apparates with a pop, holding two trays. There's steaming tomato soup, and plates full of chicken and lettuce sandwiches – Draco's favorite meal. Draco sits down on the chair besides Potter's bed, and takes his tray from Debby's hand with a nod. Draco watches as Debby tenderly puts the tray on Potter's lap, unfolding the napkin and giving it to the man. Potter smiles at her, and it seems more genuine than his previous strange smiles. He gently squeezes her skinny hand briefly, earning a suprised and delighted squeak from Debby. When she's gone, Draco eats a little, waiting for Potter to do the same. Merlin knows he needs to put on a bit of weight.

"So, Potter. I understood you can't walk or stand for the moment, but you should recover easily. I will arrange for a physiotherapist to come here – a muggle one, since we don't want anyone of our world to know you're here. But tell me... Why don't you want to talk? Running out of moronic statements to enlighten your adoring fans?"

Potter actually looks amused for a second, and then the blank mask is back, making Draco want to scream in frustration. He's never been a patient man. They eat in silence for a while, and then Draco puts his tray on the ground, standing up to leave. Potter suddenly raises his hand, catching Draco's wrist. Still quick as a Seeker, Draco thinks.

"Something you want, Potter?"

Potter shakes his head. But then he leans forward, and lifts Draco's sleeve to bare his forearm. His left forearm. Draco wants to flee, he wants to get out so badly that he's shaking, but he cannot, he's somehow paralized, and Potter still holds his wrist, his face taut with concentration.

"What are you- Fuck!"

It burns, it burns as badly as it had that awful night when Voldemort branded this ugly tattoo in Draco's skin. But just as Draco thinks he might pass out, it's over. And his skin is all smooth and pale and unmarked.

Potter just removed his Mark, without a wand, without speaking, apparently just fucking wanting it.

"How... You... You just..."

Potter gently puts the sleeve back over his arm, squeezes Draco's hand once, and leans back on the pillows. Draco knows he's gaping – it's becoming quite annoying, really – and something like a smirk flashes on Potter's handsome face. Then it's gone, and Draco leaves the room as quickly as he can, hoping he's not swaying too much.

Fucking. Buggering. Hell.

He needs a Firewhiskey. Maybe two.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past violence and abuse

**AN:** Review - review - review - review... Is it too much? Oh, I almost forgot! Review, please ^^

Morning comes far too early for Draco. He feels numb, even with the hangover potion. He can't believe it. He simply cannot.

But it's real, it's true. He cannot stop staring dumbly at his arm, touching the soft skin where the Dark Mark used to be. The shameful proof of his cowardice, the ever present remembrance of his past sins. And now it's gone. It's gone because Potter removed it, and Draco doesn't understand why. Why the hell did Potter do it? Does Potter want to thank him in his own way? Will he ask something from Draco in return? Because nobody could be that forgiving, nobody. Draco cannot forgive himself, how could Potter? And how in the name of Salazar is this even possible? Draco is sure there is no known spell or potion to remove it. Trust Harry Potter to do what shouldn't be possible.

Draco leaves the house without checking on Potter. He's too confused to face the other man right now. He would ask thousand questions the Savior wouldn't be able to answer because he fucking doesn't speak, or he would maybe do something completely stupid like hug Potter. Draco shivers slightly at the thought and tries to gather his wits before Apparating. It would not do to Splinch himself now.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Draco is a bit ashamed to admit that he should have thought about it earlier. He blames it on Potter, whose stupidity is probably rubbing on him. After dinner he hands the quill and the piece of parchment to his guest, who just looks at them curiously. Draco finds that he's more and more expressive, the green eyes seem to lose a bit of their previous dullness, and surely that's an improvement. It's been three days since he kidnapped Potter. Draco wisely decided not to talk about the whole Dark Mark issue, because, well. Just because.

"You can't talk, or at least you don't want to, but your hands are just fine. You can write, Potter."

The raven-haired takes the objects from Draco's hand, and sets them on his tray. And he looks at Draco again.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Potter! I know you're perfectly sane! Well, as sane as you can be, of course. You've always been a bit crazy, if you ask me. Anyway, the point is, you're able to write, even if you don't want to talk for now!"

Potter smiles, a real and soft smile that makes his eyes shine even more behind his glasses. It's the first time that Draco receives such a smile from him, and he suddenly understands why Granger and Weasley are so fiercely protective of him, so honestly loyal, why Granger would have done anything to get him out of St Mungo's, even swallow her pride and her rightful resentment and trust Draco.

"You won't make it any easier on me, will you?" Draco's voice is a bit hoarse and he clears his throat awkwardly.

"I've found a physiotherapist. She agreed to come every evening at 5 during the week. It's not the best time, I hope you won't be too tired to work with her, but I go to St Mungo's every morning to visit my mother and I have to work during the daytime, so... Since she's a Muggle, it wouldn't do to have Debby greet her. Though I suppose we could Obliviate her afterwards, but I heard it's not so healthy to do it too often, and-"

Draco stops abruptly because Potter is chuckling. His eyes twinkle and there's this soft and pure sound escaping from his mouth, and Salazar, it's good to hear it after all this silence. It's so good that Draco feels himself smiling in return against his will.

"Well Potter, I didn't think you'd find it funny to manhandle Muggles. Really, I bet your fans would be disappointed. I'll let you sleep now. Good night, Potter."

He's about to leave when Potter slips something in his hand. It's a small piece of parchment. It reads _"Thank you, Draco"_ in a surprisingly neat writing. That's how it is, then. Potter will only give what he wants. Draco guesses it's okay. Irritating, frustrating, but okay. He nods a bit stiffly and leaves the room, trying not to think too much of how good it feels to have someone simply thank you like that, or to make someone smile and laugh at what you say. Or to be called by his first name. He has to be careful not to get used to it. It'll be gone soon enough, with Potter and his strange smiles and his too-green eyes. Yes, he has to be careful. Things like these are not for men like him, and he'd better not forget it.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Potter stands beside his bed, a triumphant expression on his face, and Draco has to bit his lower lip to keep himself from smiling.

After two weeks of hard work with the physiotherapist, he's able to stand on his own, and even to go to the bathroom with two Muggle walking-sticks that the girl has brought him, instead of having Debby levitate him. She's good, Draco has to admit. And Potter is a hard worker. He seems as much determined to walk again as he is not to talk. He has not uttered a single word, and hasn't written anything after that evening when he had thanked Draco, and there are still painful moments where his face goes completely blank. But physically he's doing very well, and the physiotherapist came for the last time today – it's becoming dangerous anyway, she's asking too many questions about Potter's supposed car accident and despite what he said to Potter, Draco doesn't want to Obliviate her. Potter will still have to exercice every day, but he'll be soon able to walk on his own.

The raven-haired is currently making his way to Draco, who's leaning in the doorframe. When they're only a foot away, Draco instinctively extends his hand to steady the other man, and Potter takes it with a smile. Something stirs in Draco's chest, and he curses himself for his stupidity.

"Potter... You'll be soon able to fight the evil again and do all the stupid things Gryffindors usually do. I should probably send an owl to Granger to let her know you're better, by the way. I think you could safely go back to your life, but you have to show them all you're not dangerous, or they'll put you back in that awful room. You have to talk, Potter. You can't stay hidden here for the rest of your life."

Draco briefly wonders why this particular idea is not as disturbing as it should be. Then he sees Potter's face, and the pain in his eyes, and he forgets about the rest.

"Potter? What's wrong? Come on, let's get you on the bed, you've done enough today."

Draco helps Harry back to the bed, and then he sits on the chair. They sit like that every evening, sharing a mostly silent dinner, for obvious reasons. Then Draco reads the Daily Prophet aloud, adding comments – especially if the article concerns the very mysterious disappearance of the Boy-Who-Lived – and sometimes Harry even laughs. It's an easy and comfortable routine, Draco realizes. It's nice to have someone to wait for you when you get home. Draco sighs and looks at Potter, whose eyes are now painfully blank again.

"Don't do that, Potter. I hate it when you lock yourself in like that. Tell me what it is you want."

Potter shrugs, his hands clenched tightly on the blanket under him. Draco can see that something has upset him, but the stubborn idiot still doesn't talk, and Draco has to fight the urge to shake him.

"Okay, let's try this another way. Do you want me to owl Granger?"

Potter seems to hesitate, but then he nods briefly.

"Okay. Shall I tell her to keep to herself whatever I will write?"

Another nod.

"Do you want to go back to your house? Or you flat, or wherever you lived before?"

Potter shakes his head, his eyes wide.

"Okay, okay. Er... Do you want to live with Granger for a while?"

Potter shakes his head again, and there's something else in his eyes, like a silent plea. Could it be that...

"Do you... Do you want to stay here?"

It seems stupid, but he has to ask, and he hears the incredulity in his own voice. Potter doesn't answer, instead he takes the quill and a piece of parchment from under his pillow, and writes furiously. Then he gives the parchment to Draco, and his hand is shaking so badly that Draco takes it in his own to soothe him. He looks at the parchment, and forgets how to breathe for a moment.

_"Please. Keep me safe. Please Draco."_

Well that's unexpected. And why the hell would someone like Potter ask for his protection? Keep me safe? What does it mean? Draco's sure there is something else to Potter's state than just a shock. Potter is afraid of something, and that's out of character for him. Not to mention he's so powerful he could probably hex anyone into next century by simply wishing it hard enough. Then what is he afraid of? He's watching Draco now, and there are unshed tears in his eyes, and that's something Draco can't stand.

"You can stay as long as you want, Potter. But I have to buy you clothes. I'm taller and slimmer than you, so mine don't look so good on you. It's still an improvement, though. You used to wear those awful oversized Muggle things in school, and from what I saw in the newspapers lately, your taste in fashion has not improved that much."

Potter flash him a brilliant smile, his eyes still shiny with tears, and Draco rolls his eyes. Hopefully Potter will soon be himself again and free Draco from all those Gryffindorish feelings.

He wonders who he thinks he's kidding.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past violence and abuse

**AN: **I'd like to thank all the people who are reviewing, favoriting and following this story! And special thanks to TheFightingAlchemist, AchillesTheGeek and Bricaylaco who are supporting me since my first story! And a big virtual hug to Cutter90313 – I'd like to take you in my arms, really. Be soft and gentle with yourself, please.

-And now, Chapter 7! Additional warning for this chapter: Character death! As usual, R&R please!

Draco reads Granger's letter for the third time. He sent her an owl two days ago, telling her how Potter was doing and asking her for details of his injury on the field. An owl from the Ministry Post Service came today morning with the answer.

_"Dear D.,_

_I'm glad to learn that our friend is doing so well. He deserves to heal, both physically and emotionally, and I think he needs a break from his work and from his previous life. _

_To answer your question, we are not sure what exactly happened. I cannot tell you more in this letter, but if you like, we could meet where you first met him tomorrow at 10 am. Do not answer this, I will go there anyway. I do not know how I can ever repay you for what you are doing, but if there is anything you need, please let me know. I will do my best to help you. _

_Thanks._

_H."_

Where he first met Potter? In the Hogwarts Express?

Oh. No. Of course. Madam Malkins. Granger is really clever. That's something only a handful of persons know, including Potter and himself. He hopes Granger knows more about the day Potter was injured, because there is something worrying about Potter's behavior, and the more Draco thinks about it, the more he's convinced that it's not a psychological induced muteness. And if it's what he thinks it might be, he has to be careful, and he has to be sure.

Draco stands up from his desk and goes to the living-room, where he knows Potter must be exercising. He watches the other man for a while, as Potter walks from one side of the room to the other, and then sits down and stands up, and again. Debby sits in a corner, her watchful eyes on him all the time. Potter is a hard worker, and his stubbornness is probably an asset in his recovery – he never gives up till he's satisfied, or until Debby shouts at him that it's enough and that he should rests. His eyes are locked on the opposite wall as he struggles not to limp too much, and there are black locks damp with sweat all around his face. Draco would be mortified to have to learn to walk again in front of a childhood enemy and a house-elf, but Potter doesn't seem to care. Whenever he spots Draco watching him, he just smiles softly before going on with whatever he's doing.

Potter is a beautiful man, Draco suddenly realizes. After all, Malfoys are raised to appreciate beauty, aren't they? The raven-haired is a bit small for a grown-man, probably because he wasn't feed properly as a child, if what the wizarding tabloids wrote a few years ago is accurate. But he's toned and fit, and Draco can see the hard muscles of his back through his shirt. Still the perfect Seeker, after all these years – Draco is now far too tall for it. Now that his eyes are alive again, Potter's face is surprisingly handsome. There is something pure and innocent in him, and at the same time, a part of him seems dark and dangerous – and dangerous he is, that's for sure. Draco shakes himself out of his daze turn around. It's time to go and face another pointless day at work. How people can find work exciting and challenging is beyond him. Salazar knows he wouldn't work if he didn't have to. Or maybe other people have better jobs and more friendly clients and coworkers.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Granger nods at him curtly, and disappears behind the curtain besides Madam Malkins' desk. There is no one else in the shop, and Draco hurries to follow her. Granger waits for him in the small backroom. She looks nervous and tired, and she's much paler than last time Draco saw her.

"I didn't know if you would come."

"Well, I asked you for answers. I'd like to have them. Is it safe here?"

"Yes, I know Madam Malkins and she likes Harry very much. And I protected this room, we can talk."

"Are you alright?" Draco feels himself blushing in a rather embarrassing way. "Not that I care, but you're looking like you don't sleep at night."

"Well, I usually don't." Granger smiles tiredly. "Ron and I… We're suspected for Harry's disappearance, of course. Ron's been suspended from the Auror Department. I think we're being followed, too. It's been hard. And I feel guilty because it was all my idea, and I can't even tell Ron what is exactly happening, so that he's worried sick for Harry on top of it. And it's my fault."

"Shit. I'm sorry, Granger."

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it for now. How is Harry?"

"He's walking again. Without those Muggle sticks, too. He's doing well, especially if you consider he was bound to a bed and drugged not even three weeks ago."

"And…"

"And he still doesn't speak. He doesn't write either to communicate, he just nods or shakes his head. He only wrote twice, in fact."

Draco gives Granger the two pieces of parchment. She frowns when she reads the second.

"Yes. This is why I wanted you to tell me exactly what happened."

"As I wrote in the letter I sent you, we don't know exactly. His partner and him were trying to arrest a wizard who had been on the run for a couple of months – he was suspected to sell Dark Artifacts. When the second team of Aurors found them, his partner was stunned in the house, and Harry was in the back alley, half crushed by a tree. His legs were badly injured – this is why they could not completely heal him in St Mungo's. The Aurors think that the wizard probably made the tree collapse on Harry before apparating away. Harry seemed to be shocked – he was conscious, I don't know how it's even possible with his wounds, but, well, it's Harry. He didn't say a word, and we understood later that he somehow couldn't speak. The healers supposed it was finally too much for him. That's all I can tell you."

Draco nods, but deep inside he knows something's wrong. And with the way Granger is looking at him, she knows it too.

"Draco?" What is it with those Gryffindors calling him Draco now? "Why is what happened so important?"

"Because what the Healers said… It's bullshit. Potter isn't shocked or any of this crap the Mind and Soul Healers usually tell. I mean, Potter is strong and stubborn as hell, and he survived much worse. Why would he break down now? It doesn't make much sense, if you ask me."

"You know... Harry wasn't very happy. He never complained or anything, but I could see it... But you're right, he's strong... It would probably take much more to break him. So what do you think happened that day then?"

"I think he was cursed. And I think I know what spell it was."

Granger is looking at him intently, and he can almost see the little wheels in her brains turn madly. He should be happy to know something Granger doesn't, but the fact doesn't bring him any joy. In fact, he hopes he's wrong. But deep inside, he knows he isn't.

Just as he opens his mouth to explain his theory to Granger, Madam Malkins pushes the curtain aside and waves to them, an expression of alarm on her face.

"I'm sorry, but there's an emergency owl from St Mungo's for Mr Malfoy in the shop. I think you should come."

Draco's stomach suddenly feels like lead, and he follows the woman without seeing anything. He takes the small rolled parchment and sees Granger giving a treat to the black owl which quickly flies away. Draco reads, but the words make no sense. He feels the parchment slip from his fingers.

His mother died this morning. His mother died.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past violence and abuse

**AN: **I'm really sorry for the mean cliffy - okay, I'm not. But here's the next chapter! R&R please!

Someone is knocking on the door. Quite loudly too. It's rather annoying. There's Debby's high-pitched voice, too, but Draco doesn't understand what she says. He doesn't care either. He just wishes she would leave him alone.

There's a loud bang and the door is suddenly wide open, and someone is carrying him. That is not right – Malfoys shall not be carried like that. Especially not Malfoy men. He cannot recall why exactly, but he's pretty sure it's not a proper thing to do. And then someone takes his clothes off, and puts him in a warm bath, and it smells like lime and coconut. Draco decides he likes it. Someone is holding his neck with one arm and washing him with the other, and Draco looks up to see who's taking care of him like that. There's jet-black hair and kind green eyes – so, so green. It seems alright. It's safe. Draco feels suddenly like crying, and he cannot remember why he's so empty inside, but the tears are already running down his cheeks.

The dark-haired man dries him with a fluffy towel and dresses him in soft pajamas before taking him to his bedroom again, where Debby is cleaning the room. She has already changed the bed sheets and the man helps him to lay in the bed. Draco takes his hand and the other seems to understand because he sits on the bed beside Draco, and looks at him with eyes full of warmth and sadness.

And suddenly it all comes back. Potter. His mother. A strangled sob escapes him and then Potter's arms are around him, strong and warm. It's weird, to be hold like that. It's foreign to him. Draco cannot remember the last time someone has hugged him. It's been years. But it feels good, it feels right, and he buries his head in the crook of Potter's neck to cry.

He cries for what seems like hours. Potter doesn't move, doesn't loosen or tighten his hold on Draco – and of course, he doesn't speak.

"You know, I wish you could speak right now. You'd tell me that it'll be alright, and I wouldn't believe you and I'd want to punch you for being such a stupid Gryffindor, but it'd be good to hear your inane words all the same. Fuck."

Potter's hand slowly goes up and down his back, in a slow caress, his fingertips barely touching Draco, like he doesn't want to startle him, like Draco's a wild animal. Draco feels the urge to talk, and he doesn't know why, but he couldn't fight it even if he wanted to.

"She's… She was a good mother. She always protected me, as best as she could with Lucius. How she hated to have Voldemort in our house… She was so afraid… I hated my father for it, for making suffer my mother like that. She's never been the same after the war. I thought she was doing better, with Mary and all… Mary… She was so distraught, she was feeling so guilty… Merlin, I'll have to owl her, let her know it wasn't her fault. They took her wand, but she hung herself with her bed sheets… She would have done it anyway, wouldn't she?"

Draco breathes in and out, slowly, deeply, trying to get a hold on himself, trying not to be so pitiful, so weak. In front of Potter. Who has just given him a bath and dressed him. Salazar. How worse could it be, anyway? He chuckles darkly.

"Did you know you can't Avada Kedavra yourself? Well, you can't. I tried once. Stupid idea, really. Not only it didn't work, but I had to face the Ministry for using an Unforgivable. Good thing I was alone in my flat, or I don't think they would have believed me. Shit. What will I do now?"

Draco realizes he's not sure what time it is. Hell, he's not sure what day it is. He probably has things to do, to organize, for his mother.

"Debby!"

Potter releases him slowly, but he doesn't stand up. Debby comes in with a tray of food, and tells him it's been two days, and the burial is tomorrow, and Mary has been taking care of it all, and he must not worry about anything and just eat because he will make himself sick otherwise. Potter nods with a sad smile, and stands up to write something on Draco's desk.

When he reads the words, he almost feel like smiling. Almost. And it's enough for now.

_"It will be alright, Draco. Please don't punch me now."_

Then Draco remembers something.

"Potter. Did you break my locking charms earlier? Were you not taught that's not something a guest shall do?"

HP-HP-HP-HP

It's the worst thing Draco ever has had to do, and Salazar knows he has done pretty awful things. Standing here in the cemetery, in his black robes, and looking at the awful box where his mother now rests. There's only four people there. Mary has come, of course. Andromeda, his aunt, is here too, and she has her hand on his shoulder – and it steadies him a bit, even if he wouldn't admit it out lout. And more surprising, Granger is here too.

His father isn't allowed to leave Malfoy Manor, even for his wife's burial, and Draco is grateful for it. He doesn't think he could bear to see that bastard today. It's his fault if his mother died. His fault if she killed herself. Draco digs his nails in his palms.

When it's over, he just stands here, waiting for the world to end. Andromeda squeezes his shoulder, and Mary whispers soft words in his ear, and Granger even hugs him rather awkwardly, and then they're gone, and surely it will all ends now.

But it doesn't. So Draco comes back home, because he has no idea what to do.

Potter is waiting for him. He helps him out of his black robes, and feeds him too hot soup, and puts him in bed. Potter touches his hair briefly, and then he leaves, and Draco watches him walk to the door. He's moving silently and easily, there's something feline about him.

Draco suddenly remembers his talk with Granger and Potter's muteness.

Potter. Potter who's been taking care of him, who has held him while he cried, who was waiting for him today. Like… like he's a friend. Like he cares. Like Draco is someone, and not a disgusting Death Eater who tried to kill him a few years ago.

And Draco knows what to do.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past violence and abuse

**AN: **I know this chapter will probably bring you more questions than answers, but... It has to be that way! As usual, R&R please!

Draco wakes up early, still feeling weary but a bit better nonetheless. He gets ups and quietly makes his way to the kitchen to brew himself a cup of tea, only to find Potter already there. He wears the cotton pajama pants and tee-shirt he insisted on, and his feet – his very nice feet, Draco notes in spite of himself – are bare on the cool kitchen tiles. Draco must admit the outfit suits him – he had been rather reluctant to buy them, but Potter kept showing him the picture again and again on the Muggle advertisement paper they had received from the cheap shop down the road, and he finally had given in. It looks comfortable, too. Maybe he should buy some for himself.

Potter greets him with a smug grin as he hands him a cup of tea – Draco tastes it and is surprised to find it exactly how he likes it: with milk and two sugars. Potter's grin grows wider and he drinks from his own mug, leaning casually on the counter.

It should be awkward to drink tea in pajamas with Potter in his kitchen at barely 6 in the morning, but the normalcy of it all is nearly overwhelming for Draco. He doesn't say anything, but he can't help himself and watches Potter. The way he sips carefully on his tea. The way he keeps pushing his unruly hair from his face. The way he sometimes looks up and smile at Draco. Potter seems oddly at ease with Draco, and that thought makes a strange and warm feeling blossom in Draco's chest. A feeling he quickly crushes before it becomes something more. Like hope. Like friendship.

Potter sets his mug down and comes nearer to Draco. Then he puts his hand on Draco's chest, and there's a question in his eyes. Draco feels his chest constrict. He doesn't want to think about his mother.

"I'm fine."

Potter raises an eyebrow and looks at him steadily. Fuck, but he's almost more annoying now that he was when he could talk. Speaking of which...

"I'll be fine, Potter. Don't waste your griffyndorish compassion on me. I talked with Granger about your injury. By the way, I see you're walking perfectly again."

Potter smiles a little, and lets his hand fall. Draco is both relieved and disappointed at the loss.

"Granger said they couldn't find what exactly happened that day. You were half-crushed under a tree, and that's how your legs were injured. The wizard you were chasing probably made it collapse. Is that right?"

Potter nods a bit stiffly, and Draco can see his eyes slowly close, as if he's trying to remember – or as if he doesn't want to remember. Well, he'll have to.

"Potter... Tell me what happened."

Potter shakes his head and turns his head away.

"You can't say it, can you? But maybe... Can you write it?"

Another shake of his head, and the green eyes fill with tears.

"No, of course not. He'll know it if you let someone know. I suppose you can't tell me his name, so I'll have Granger search this information for me. Potter, I know what happened, and I'll help you, okay? Is the threat on Granger and Weasley?"

Potter's eyes widen a little, and then he nods once.

"Yes, it makes sense. Everybody knows they're like family to you. Oh Merlin..." Draco can barely breathe when he realizes what 'family' means for Potter. "Is it on Teddy Lupin too?"

Potter's hands are tight fists and his face is suddenly just pain and anger.

"The fucking bastard... He knew you wouldn't risk the kid's life. Shit. Don't worry, I figured it out by myself, they're safe, okay? There's only one thing I don't get. Why did you tell me to keep you safe? Why do you want to stay here, of all places?"

Potter seems to think about it, his brow furrowed in an almost comical way. Then he holds two fingers in front of Draco.

"Two reasons?"

Potter nods, and then holds only one finger.

"Okay, first one."

Potter points the ground, and then makes a gesture with his hand, like he's drawing a circle.

"Here? The kitchen? No, no. The flat? What is it about my flat that could help you staying safe?"

Potter takes Draco's hand and leads him to the window, and looks outside, then at Draco, then outside again.

"Well, yes, Potter, of course my flat is safer than the streets, I mean obviously- wait. You mean because of the neighborhood? It's safe because I'm living in Muggle London?"

Potter nods, looking relieved.

"I still don't get it. Because you're away from the ones you love? Or is it something else?"

Potter points his head, then his mouth, and his head again, then his ear.

"You can't talk, I get that and I know why. But why your ear? You're hearing just fine..."

Potter seems exasperated. He points his head again, and his ear.

"Yes, yes, your head, your ear. Well excuse me; you're not very good at all that gesturing thing! Oh! Was he able to talk to you in your mind?"

Potter nods with a pained look, and Draco tries not to think about what the black-haired might have heard. Then he points the ground again, and shakes his head.

"But not here. It doesn't happen here anymore. Is that correct?" Potter nods. "Okay, and then second reason?"

Potter smiles and takes a step forward, touching Draco's chest with his hand like he has done a few minutes ago, and Draco nearly chokes on his spit. Potter's eyes are smiling and sparkling, as open and honest as they always have been – the man is a Gryffindor to the core, there's no doubt about it.

"Because... because of me?" Draco has finally found his voice back, but it seems more like a weird croak and he kicks himself inwardly for letting Potter have such a power over him. The brilliant smile the Savior flashes him is really not helping either.

"You feel safe with me?" Potter nods, all blinding smile and green eyes and open trust. Fuck. His hand is still on Draco's chest, and it burns through the silk of his pajama, and if Draco doesn't move, it will surely reach his heart and then Draco will be lost. He takes a step back, trying to fight the blush on his face. "You're stupid, Potter. You shouldn't trust me, of all people. You may have removed my Mark, but I'm the same man. It's a miracle you're still alive, if you just go and forgive and trust anyone."

Potter keeps smiling, and then he takes Draco's mug and his and pours some more tea. Draco sits down at the kitchen table with a sigh. He has to think about what he just learned, and to organize a new meeting with Granger. If only he could concentrate properly with the cat-like eyes on him like that.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past violence and abuse

**AN:** Thanks for the wonderful reviews I received! Chapter ten! Nothing special to say, just enjoy... and review, please!

"You may want to sit down, Granger."

"You know, it would be nice if you called me Hermione. What did you discover?"

"I was right, he's been cursed" Draco says bluntly. Well, Granger actually live with Weasley now, so he doubts there's anything he would say that could really shock her. They're sitting on shabby chairs in Madam Malkin's backroom, and Draco knows he has to be convincing.

"I don't understand... I thought the Healers in St Mungo's had checked for any curses after his injury..."

"Granger- erm Hermione, it's a very dark curse... I'm not sure the Healers even know about it, and it would not appear on standard diagnostic spells. No, don't ask. I just know about it, okay?"

"Alright, Draco. I won't ask." Hermione – Salazar, it's weird to think about her as Hermione – looks at him with a soft expression on her face, and he rolls his eyes inwardly. She must have sensed his feeling because she smiles and goes on. "So, what's this spell and what do we do about it now?"

"It's a modified Imperius. It's..." Draco tries to choose his words carefully. He wants Hermione to understand what this is about, but he doesn't want her to panick, or to despair. "It allows the caster to take control of a person at any time, but to do something very specific. There's generally a trigger too, like a security. If the cursed person tries to tell someone about it, or to tell anything related to the caster, it activates, and the caster takes control. In Potter's case, it's very cleverly thought. Not only he can't talk or communicate about the curse or the caster, but he can't talk at all – it would activate the curse."

"Shit. You said the caster would take control of a person to make them do something specific. What do you mean?"

Draco shifts on his seat, ill at ease. Here comes the worse part. There is probably no way to soften the blow.

"The caster would generally make the curse person kill their relatives. It was a very efficient way to make people obey, during the war, as you can imagine."

"Of course... Not only you'd lost the ones you loved, but you'd have killed them yourself... Shit, would Harry have to kill Teddy?"

"Yes. Teddy, Weasley, and you."

Hermione's eyes are wide with horror, her two hands clasped on her mouth. Fuck, he's not good with people.

"Gran-Hermione, I'm sorry. I should have tell you another way, but... I'm not so good with all that friendly thing. Sorry."

"No, no. I'm just... How could anyone do that to Harry? He's... He's just such a good man... I mean... How could they?"

"I don't know." And really, he doesn't understand, because not only Potter saved them all, but he's possibly the best person Draco has ever met. Not that he has met many good people in his life, but still. Hermione inhales deeply, closing her eyes a few seconds, and when she opens them again, he can see that something has changed. There's a new light in them, and he knows she'll do anything. She trusts him and she will do what he will ask her to do for Harry, and isn't it weird?

"So, now that we know, what can we do about it? We have to do something. Harry must be terrified to hurt us, he wouldn't forgive himself if..."

"Yes, your Golden Boy would probably kill himself rather than hurting anyone. Good thing I told him you couldn't Avada Kevadra yourself..." Draco muttered.

"What was that?"

"Hum? Never mind. Anyway, we need the caster – and before you'll get ideas, we need him alive. Only the caster can lift the curse. If he dies, well, I'm not sure what would happen. That's why I need you – and Weasley."

"I can't tell Ron. If the Ministry knows-"

"Fuck the Ministry, Hermione. There is no other way to save Potter, and I'm sure even Weasley will understand that. He might lose his job – even if I strongly doubt that, Potter will just have to explain it all afterwards – but you will all lose your lives if we do nothing. We need Weasley, as much as it pains me to admit it."

"I don't know..."

"Hermione. Look at me and tell me that Weasley wouldn't do anything to save his best friend and the woman he loves. He may be an idiot, but he's a loyal and brave idiot. We need him to find everything useful he can about the caster."

Draco hesitates, but Hermione looks torn, and he has to convince her.

"Hermione, the only other way to save you, Weasley and Teddy is for Harry to die. And you know he'd kill himself if it comes to it."

It's a low blow, even for him. But it's true, and Merlin helps him, but they're running out of time. Either the caster will activate the curse soon, especially when he will realize he can't enter Potter's mind anymore, or Potter will get desperate enough to commit suicide. If Weasley can learn who the caster is, and if they can get him to lift the curse some way or another, there's still hope.

"I'm not sure Ron will believe me."

"You mean you're not sure he will believe me." Hermione blushes a bit. "That's okay. We can't expect Weasly to be smart and grown-up all of a sudden. Oh, don't frown, I'm sure you want to kill him at least twice a week."

"Try twice a day." Hermione answers with a chuckle.

"Look... I think you sould explain all this to him, and then bring him to Hogwarts tonight. Can you pretend you'll visit McGonagall, and possibly tell about it around you? Good. From her office you'll Floo to the Leaky Cauldron. Then take a Muggle cab and give him this address." Draco hands her the address of his flat, hoping it's not a huge mistake – nobody knows where he lives. Trust Potter to make one hell of a mess of Draco's quiet and safe life. Boring, though. Boring and lonely. But that's beside the point.

"Your flat?"

"Yes. If Weasley still doubts me after seeing Potter, we'll find something else. But I'm fairly sure he'll agree."

Hermione only nods and they stand up to leave. Before Draco can reach the curtain, she throws herself in his arms. Honestly, what's wrong with the girl? Does he look like a fucking teddy-bear? He pats her awkwardly on the shoulder and she finally releases him, squeezing his hand before she disappears under the curtain. Gryffindors are crazy.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Draco has been wondering all day if he sould tell Potter about Hermione's and the Weasel's visit. When he comes home, Potter is reading the Daily Prophet in the living-room, sprawled in the leather couch like he owns it. He's quietly humming under his breath, and Draco doesn't have the heart to cause him distress now. He'll discover what Draco has been up to soon enough. Hopefully the Weasel won't be an arse and he'll agree quickly, and then they'll be gone without disturbing Potter too much.

One can always hope.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past violence and abuse

**AN:** Aw, you know what? I need reviews. Badly. Pretty please? You'll make my day... ^^

There's a soft knocking on the front door, and Draco gestures for Debby to go and open the door. Harry is curled in the couch with a book and looks up sharply, a mixture of fear and astonishment and defiance on his face.

"Potter... Hermione and Weasley are here to see you."

The book falls to the ground and Potter shakes his head, eyes wild and scared. Fuck. Draco has known it would be hard, but to see him like this... terrified, and angry... Potter is looking at him now, and the broken trust Draco can read in his eyes is nearly too much to bear. But it's necessary, it's the right thing to do – and since when Draco is behaving like a bloody Hufflepuff anyway?

"Potter, calm down. We need them. I talked to Granger-Hermione this morning about what was done to you."

"And we'll do anything to help you out, Harry. You know that, don't you?"

Hermione is there, a kind smile on her lips and her wild curls all around her face like a halo – Draco has to admit she's a rather pretty young woman. She kneels in front of Harry, who's still shaking his head madly. She tries to take his hand, but he snatches his hand away, and there pain in his eyes, so much pain that Draco nearly tells Hermione to just get out. But then Weasley steps in the room and everything goes still for a moment. Weasley's blue eyes go from Harry to Draco, like he's trying to figure out what is really going on. Hermione stands up and takes his hand, and Draco sees the glimpse of tenderness in Weasley's eyes when he looks down on her. There's a painful tightness in his chest – how he wishes to have what they have for himself. But he knows things like that are out of reach for him, and now is not the time for depressing thoughts.

"Weasley." Draco nods politely, hoping he's not sneering too much. He can't help it, it's like a reflex.

"Malfoy. I really hope this is not some trap, you know. Hermione seems convinced that you really want to help Harry, and, well, what she told me kind of makes sense, so..."

"So?"

Weasley turns to Harry, who's still seated on the couch, his arms now tightly around his knees, eyes still wide behind his glasses. He's looking like a lost child, Draco suddenly thinks. Lost, afraid, and alone.

"Harry? Are you alright here?"

Potter slowly nods, his eyes fixed on something behind the Weasel, like he's afraid to look at his best mate.

"Don't worry mate, we'll fix this, okay? I'll do my best, I promise. Harry? Look at me."

Potter only shakes his head, closing his eyes. Weasley looks crestfallen, and Draco can't imagine what it's like for him to see his best friend like this.

"I think we should go, Hermione. I don't want to upset Harry further. Malfoy, Hermione will contact you as soon as I have something new. I already talked to my former partner tonight. Harry... We'll see you soon, okay? Take care of yourself, mate."

And then they're gone, and Harry is still unmoving in the couch, and Draco has no idea what to do. He sits down carefully next to the other man, trying to think of something to say.

"Potter? I'm sorry. It's alright, they're gone, and they're safe. Do you understand? Potter?" But the green eyes are somewhere far away, and Potter does not react at all. Shit. Draco certainly didn't thought it would be that bad.

"Potter?" Draco tries again. "Er… Harry?"

Potter blinks slowly, the green eyes focusing on the ground, and then on Draco, and he looks almost surprised to find him there.

"Harry? Are you alright?"

Potter – no, Harry, shit, it's Harry now - shakes his head and leans forward until his forehead touches Draco's shoulder. Fuck. Is Draco supposed to hold him? Or should he say something? Fuck, fuck, fuck. He doesn't know how to comfort people, how to hug people, how to touch them or make them feel better. That's the sort of things Harry does. Draco… Draco is just the cold hearted bastard who tried to kill Dumbledore and bears the Dark Mark on his forearm. Well, used to bear the Dark Mark, but that's semantics.

But he has to do something, right? Harry is scared, he's afraid for his friends, and there is a crazy wizard out there who apparently wants to hurt him and kill him – again. So Draco raises his arm slowly and puts it around Harry's shoulders. He leans back in the couch, dragging the dark haired man with him. He feels Harry shake against him, he feels the shuddering breath in his neck, and then Harry breaks down.

There are tears and heartbreaking sobs, and Draco holds him tighter, hoping it's enough. After what seems like hours, Harry becomes quiet, his breath more regular against Draco's skin. Draco pulls back a little, and his heart misses a beat. Harry has fallen asleep. Harry is sleeping on him. It's such a crazy thing to do, to fall asleep on Draco Malfoy – nobody would trust him enough. Nobody but Harry.

"I won't let that wizard hurt you, Harry. I'll do anything it takes. Anything" he whispers in the raven haired man's ear, wondering why the hell he's doing such a thing.

He fights the urge to laugh like a madman, because really, it's too much. Instead he moves them both to a lying position on the couch, and later Debby covers them with a soft blanket, blowing the candles as she leaves the room.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Draco wakes up feeling unusually rested. He also feels a bit stiff, especially in his neck and lower back, but otherwise warm and relaxed. And then he opens his eyes. He's lying on the couch, facing Harry. Their legs are entwined and his hand is on Harry's waist. And Salazar helps him, but it feels nice, to wake up wrapped in someone's warmth like that. It feels right, even. Waking up with Harry, whose face is so open and relaxed in his sleep.

But it's so, so wrong. Because it's a lie, it's not real. Harry is only here because he needs help, and he's only in Draco's arms because there was no one else to comfort him the night before. And he'll probably be horrified and disgusted when he'll wake up. Draco disentangles himself carefully from Harry and runs to the bathroom, emptying his stomach in the loo. He sits on the cold tiles for a long time that morning.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past violence and abuse

**AN**: Thanks to all my reviewers and followers! Real life has been a bit hectic so it took me longer than usual to update, and I was really frustrated that I couldn't write when I wanted to! Hope you enjoy this chapter! R&R please!

"We've tried anything. It's almost like this man didn't exist before last year. Daniel, my former partner, said that the Auror Department is at loss – and with Harry's disappearance, I'm sure they're doing their very best. But… it's been nearly a month now. It's not good."

Draco snorts, but he knows that Weasley is right. The Ministry must be frantic since Harry's gone missing, and they assume the case he was working on before his injury is linked to it. Weasley has agreed to meet Draco in Hogwarts, since it would be very suspicious for him to go to Madam Malkin's shop – Merlin knows the red haired man doesn't seem to care about robes and clothes.

"We're not even sure he's really looking that way" adds Weasley as he points the bad photograph of a tall and thin dark-haired man. "Could be Polyjuiced or wear Glamour Charms."

"There's something familiar about him… And at the same time I could swear I never saw him before. Shit, I really thought we would find him easily enough."

"Yeah, me too." Weasley shrugs helplessly, and Draco can see the shadows under the blue eyes and the way his shoulders are slumped. Weasley is not just worried. He's losing hope. And Draco has to admit he's less and less optimistic about the whole thing.

"I guess we have to search harder, Weasley. We have to find him. In the meantime, I will contact a… friend of mine. He may know something about the curse. I'll let you know if I find something interesting."

Weasley nods sadly, and stands up. Unexpectedly, the red haired man puts his hand on Draco's shoulder, who can feel himself stiffen in surprise.

"Malfoy… I just… I wanted to thank you for what you're doing for Harry." Weasley looks like he's just swallowed a whole lemon, and Draco smirks at his obvious discomfort.

"Yes, well. I couldn't let the Savior with those dimwitted Healers, could I?"

Weasley nods with a sad smile before he leaves the room, and Draco wonders what they will do if they're not able to locate the caster very soon.

HP-HP-HP-HP

It's a bad idea. And possibly a dangerous one, too. Why is he doing that again? Oh, right. Because Harry bloody Potter is currently cooking with Debby in Draco's kitchen and because he apparently has an unexpected weakness for heroes in distress. Shit. The door opens silently and the tall and dark man greets him with a sardonic smirk.

"Draco. Well, isn't it a surprise?"

"Blaise. Will you let me in?"

"I'm not sure. What do you want, Draco? You certainly didn't come to have tea with me, did you?"

"No. I need information, and I had hoped you could help me."

"Draco Malfoy needs help. Well, I have to know what it is you want. I must admit I'm curious as to what could have made you swallow your pride and ask me for help."

The Zabini's Mansion is the same as Draco remembers it from his school days: the same obvious luxury, the same tasteless golden frames and the same sickening smell of expensive perfume. Blaise's mother is nowhere to be seen – she's probably away with her latest husband. He follows Blaise down the hallway, and then in the large library. Blaise gestures for him to sit in one of the leather chair, and sits himself.

"So, Draco. Care to explain what you're doing here? And why you somehow get the impression I'd be willing to help you?"

Blaise is watching him with a calculating gaze, his dark eyes barely blinking. Draco knows he has to be careful, and at the same time, he has to convince his former schoolmate.

"I have a proposition for you. I need to know something, and I need to know it as soon as possible. I need you to find someone. If you succeed, I'll make sure your left arm loose its shameful tattoo."

"How dense do you think I am, Draco? No one can remove the Dark Mark."

Draco lifts his sleeve and sees Blaise's eyes widen as his breath hitches.

"Some clever Glamour Charms, Draco? Let me see."

Draco lets Blaise perform a few revealing spells with a smirk, and he nearly snorts out loud when the dark haired man finally casts a half-convinced Finite Incantatem.

"How did you do it? It's impossible…"

"Well, obviously it's not. Someone removed it for me. And this is why I need you to dig information, Blaise. If you do well, I'll convince them to do the same for you."

"Who is it? You know I won't do anything unless you tell me the whole story. As enticing as the prospect of being rid of this thing is, I won't risk losing what I have for your pretty eyes, Draco."

"It's Potter."

"Excuse me? I thought you said Potter."

"I did. Look, you don't need to know anything but this: Potter removed my Mark, and I'm indebted to him. As you certainly know, he has been injured and he wants revenge. I need you to find the man who injured him."

There. Those are things Blaise understands: debts, payback and revenge. Blaise is a true Slytherin, after all. Draco hopes it will be enough – he doesn't want to give Blaise too much information. The bastard would try to use it for his own profit. Draco knows that Blaise is deeply involved with Dark Arts and even darker wizards. He has the means to find the man they are so desperately looking for.

Blaise seems to think about it, but Draco knows him. He's interested. His handsome face is carefully blank, but his fingers are tapping restlessly on the arm of his chair and Draco can almost see his brains going overdrive.

"Tell me what you know."

Draco barely refrains to grin silly. It wouldn't do to look like a Hufflepuff now – or worse, like a Gryffindor.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past violence and abuse

**AN**: And here's a new chapter! Enjoy (well, I hope so ^^ ) and review please!

Draco can't help but stare. Harry is apparently baking cookies with an over excited Debby. There's flour on his nose and the kitchen is a mess. Debby is seated on the counter – Harry probably put her here, because she would never dare doing such a thing on her own – and she's giggling madly, her big ears flopping on her head. The two of them are looking ridiculously happy. Draco feels like an intruder and he's about to turn on his heels when Harry spots him and waves with a grin. Debby lets out a squeak and falls to the ground, looking ashamed and afraid as she bows deeply.

And it's suddenly hard to breathe for Draco, because his anger is chocking him, so he turns around and goes to his room, slamming the door behind him.

How dare they? How dare they all just assume who he is? How dare they all think he's just like his father? How many times did he ask Debby not to bow before him? How many times did he promise her he would never hurt her? But it's not enough. It's never enough, and it never will be. Nobody will ever believe it. His mother was the only one to love him and to see him, not his father, and she's gone. Draco feels his magic going wild, and he knows he has to calm down, but he can't. It's just so pointless. He can try as hard as he wants. Nothing will be enough to make people forget who he is and what he has done. He lets himself fall to the ground, his back against the bed, and takes his head in his hands. If only he was not such a coward, he would end it all. But his only attempt had brought him to the Auror Department, very much alive and shackled to an iron chair, and he can't find the strength to try again. He's such a loser.

Tears are running down his cheeks and he wonders when the last time he cried was. The door opens slowly and Harry walks in, his bare feet silent on the thick carpet. He kneels in front of Draco and seems to wait for something.

"Go away, Potter. I'm not in the mood, as you can see. Go and tell Debby I won't fucking do anything to her." Shit, he sounds pitiful and bitter. And he still can't stop the tears from flowing. Harry shakes his head and doesn't move.

"What do you want then?"

Harry slowly moves until he sits beside Draco, and he snakes an arm around the blonde's shoulders. Draco stiffens, but Harry doesn't move, and he slowly relaxes in the embrace. Salazar, it's weird to be hold like that. Nice, though.

"You don't have to do that. I'm fine."

The hand on his shoulder squeezes once, and Draco fights the need to surrender, to let himself be hold and comforted, to hide in Harry's arms like a child. It would be so easy to pretend that Harry cares, that he's not disgusted with Draco, that he's not here because he's a damn Gryffindor but rather because he wants to.

"I can't... Just... Just go away, please." But Harry shakes his head resolutely, and his free hand comes to gently wipe Draco's tears on his face.

"I don't understand Gryffindors, you know. You're just... and Hermione keeps hugging me each time I see her, and hell, even Weasley was nice to me this morning, and I just... I don't understand."  
Harry is looking amused, but his smile is kind and not mocking. They're far too close, and Harry's arm is still on his shoulders, and Draco knows he should flee now. Instead, he starts talking, and he doesn't even know why the hell he's confiding in Harry, but he can't stop himself, and the words keep flooding in his mouth, over and over again.

"People always assume I'm just like Lucius. Maybe because I look a lot like him, or maybe because I used to be like him, I don't know. But I'm not. I'm not. I could never hurt Debby, but she doesn't trust me. I'm doing my best to prove them wrong, I'm working and I'm honest and I keep out of trouble, but I don't know why I even bother. They hate me anyway. I guess they're right, I hate myself too. Mother..." His voice is barely a whisper now, and he doesn't dare looking at Harry, but he's still there, warm and solid against him, so Draco keeps talking. How worse can it be anyway? "Mother loved me. She was always there for me, always protecting me from Lucius, from the Dark Lord. Lucius... He's a sick bastard. He was never satisfied with me. My mother did what she could to protect me, and when she couldn't, she used to heal me. And now she's gone, and there's only that madman and me left. She was the only good member of the family."

Draco feels Harry shakes his head, and warm fingers come under his chin, making him raise his head. Green eyes look at him intensely, and Harry shakes his head again, and taps his index on Draco's chest.

"No, I'm not. I should just give up, but I can't even do that. I'm too much of a coward."

Draco tries to shake Harry's arm, but the dark haired man just tightens his hold and pulls Draco to his chest, wrapping him in his warmth, in his scent, in his strength. Shielding him from the world, even if only for a moment. And Draco lets himself be hold, just this time, just once, before the loneliness and the darkness catch him again.

HP-HP-HP-HP

"I don't know how you do it, you know."

Harry raises one eyebrow before putting a whole cookie in his mouth and munching rather loudly. Draco rolls his eyes. They're still seated on Draco's carpet, but Harry has made tea and brought scalding hot cookies.

"Not that, you idiot." Harry's childish grin is brilliant and Draco can't help but smile a little. Just a little. "Though I have to admit you eat like Weasley sometimes. I mean... I know you had a pretty fucked-up childhood, and then there was all this Boy-Who-Lived shit and now this curse... How the hell are you so bloody cheerful most of the time?"

Harry laughs, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, and it's a beautiful, beautiful thing.

"There! What did I say?" Draco picks a cookie and nibbles at it, trying to figure out the best way to put what he has to say. "Harry... Weasley couldn't find anything with those Aurors. So, er... I went to Blaise Zabini today. Blaise is... well, let's just say his business is far less clean than mine is. I asked him to find what he could about the man who injured you, and possibly about the curse itself. But Blaise is a Slytherin to the core, he won't do it out of the goodness of his heart. I had to convince him somehow." Harry looks at him curiously, and there's some worry in his eyes too.

"You probably won't like it. I told him you would remove his Mark like you did for me."

Harry doesn't look surprised. He looks horrified and angry. He stands up and storms out of the room, and comes back as quickly, holding his quill and a piece of parchment. He sits down again and writes for a moment, and then shows the parchment to Draco, his face flushed and his breathing uneven.

_"He doesn't deserve to have it removed. I will not do it."_

Draco sighs. Salazar saves him from heroes and Gryffindors.

"Harry... You'll have to do it. No, no, listen to me. I know you'd probably prefer to die than to do it, and that's stupid enough if you ask me, but it's not only about you. There are Hermione's and Teddy's and Weasley's lives at stake! If Blaise find something, you'll do it. We need this information, and I won't let you die because you're too fucking selfless and honest!"

Harry seems a bit shaken, but he nods weakly.

"Besides, you removed my Mark, and I didn't deserve it either."

Harry writes something and puts the parchment on Draco's bed before he leaves the room. Draco reads the few words and smiles sadly.

_"Of course you deserved it. You're a good man."_

If only.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past violence and abuse

**AN**: And another one! Hope you'll like it! As usual, thanks to my reviewers and followers, and please review!

It cannot be. Draco would have recognized him, wouldn't he? And how the hell did the bastard manage to fool the Aurors? But it makes sense. The strange feeling Draco had had while looking at the picture Weasley had showed him. The caster's knowledge of Dark Arts – and of curses the Dark Lord used to like. Even the fake name. Leo Mayer. LM. Lucius Malfoy. Fucking hell.

"I can't believe you didn't know, Draco."

Blaise is smirking, but his face is taut with fear. One does not play with Lucius Malfoy. He has always been a dangerous and cold man, but now he's said to be quite unstable. And Blaise doesn't know the worst of it – only Draco and a few Aurors are aware of how mad Lucius now is. How he's sometimes talking to himself, muttering about the Dark Lord and revenge and Mudbloods. How he killed two of his house-elves in a fit of anger last year – this is why Debby lives with Draco now. Draco couldn't take all house-elves with him, only Debby, because she was his own, from the day he was born. The other ones are bound to the eldest Malfoy.

"I didn't know. I haven't seen him in months."

"Well, I don't want to have to do anything with this – and I definitely don't want to see Potter. We're even. And if you ever confront Lucius about this, please kindly refrain to tell him about me."

"I won't tell him how I learned about this, Blaise."

"Will you let Potter have revenge over your own father? Will you stoop so low as to betray your family?"

Blaise sounds curious, and slightly angry.

"Lucius is not my father. Thanks for your help, Blaise."

Draco gets out as quickly as he can without running. He needs to get home, he needs a drink, and he has to think about this before he fire-calls Hermione and Weasley.

HP-HP-HP-HP

The truth is an ugly and dirty little thing. Well, most of the time, anyway. It stinks, it hurts, and it's violent and raw. Draco sighs and gulps the last drops of his Firewhiskey. The truth is that Draco is not sure he can betray his father. Even to save three innocent people. Even to help Harry. Even to save his tainted soul.

Salazar, he should be able to. Lucius is a cruel and cold man, who has probably never loved anyone in his life. He's responsible for countless deaths. He made Draco's childhood a nightmare and Narcissa lived most of her life in fear. It should be easy. It should even bring Draco some sort of relief, some sense of justice.

So why does it seem such an impossible thing to do? Why can't Draco not breathe anymore, each time he thinks about letting Hermione and Weasley know about it? Why is the thought of their deaths, of little Teddy's lifeless body, or of Harry's despair not enough to make him do what he should do?

Fuck. It's just his luck, really. Surely there are some other mad wizards who want to hurt and kill Harry. So why in the name of the Founders is Lucius the one succeeding in that? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Draco is about to pour himself another drink when the bathroom's door bangs open. Harry is suddenly there, his face flushed with anger and frustration. Well, it's true that he has been calling Draco and knocking on the door since Draco came back.

"Harry, that's extremely rude from you."

Draco stands up with some difficulty, but he's proud to be able to walk without swaying too much. He tries to walk past Harry, but the bloody Savior catches his arm before Draco can escape. Even in his alcohol-induced daze, Draco can see Harry's expression soften and the anger is slowly replaced by worry. He raises a hand and his fingertips trace Draco's jaw in a strangely tender gesture.

"I'm fine, I'm just… I'm just fucked-up. And drunk. And I know what I should do, but I'm not sure I'm able to do it. I'm not like you. I'm not brave and good. Shit."

Draco loses his balance and Harry's grip on his arm tightens. The dark-haired man leads him to his bedroom, removing his shoes and helping him under the covers.

"I'm the one who's supposed to help you, not the other way around. But of course you have to go all Gryffindor on me… Oh, I think I might be sick."

To his credit, Harry doesn't seem disgusted, he just helps Draco to sit up and hands him the waste bin.

"Harry, there are Sobering Potions in the bathroom. Could you please give me one? I… I have something to tell you."

Harry nods and does as requested, and he sits on the bed in front of Draco, waiting for him to talk. Draco closes his eyes, waiting for the potion to clear his head and dissipate his dizziness.

"Thanks, Harry. Sorry for that… I… I know who cursed you. And I have to call Hermione and Weasley, and we have to decide what we will do. But…"

Shit, it's hard. Harry is looking at him with all that kindness and that warmth in his eyes, all those things Draco doesn't understand – and doesn't deserve. Somehow it makes things even harder, because he has to admit he's even a lesser man that everybody already think. Even himself.

"It's my father. The bastard cursed you, Harry."

Harry's eyes widen for a moment, and then he's looking so angry that Draco shifts uneasily on his bed. Harry's mouth is a thin line, and he's pale with rage. He puts both his hands on Draco's shoulders, who can't help but startle a little.

"Harry? I'm sorry, I just learned it a few hours ago. I… I really want to help you, you know, but I don't know… and with my mother's death and… I know it's all excuses, and I should call Hermione and Weasley but-"

Harry puts his left hand on Draco's mouth and takes a quill and parchment out of his pocket with his right hand.

"_I understand it is hard for you. He's is your father. I will not ask you to take part in this. But I need you to tell us everything that could help us to stop him and to make him lift the curse._"

"Harry, he's dangerous. He's mad. He could hurt you, he could kill you or your friends without blinking. You should ask the Aurors for help."

Harry shakes his head, and there's so much determination and strength in his eyes that Draco shivers. This is the man who killed the Dark Lord. Harry writes again.

"_They probably wouldn't believe me. And this is personal. He has targeted the ones I love, the only ones that matter to me. I have to go and stop him."_

Draco feels a sharp pain in his chest. The only ones that matter to him. Of course, what did Draco expect?

Harry must have seen the hurt in Draco's eyes, because he writes something and then he tucks a strand of blond hair behind Draco's ear.

_"He's doesn't know we are friends, or else I'm sure you would be threatened as well._"

"I'll tell you everything I know. And… And I'll go with you, too."


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past violence and abuse

**AN**: Thanks to all my reviewers, it means so much to me! You're amazing! So, enjoy the new chapter! And as usual, review pretty please!

They are all silent, and Draco cannot take it anymore. Hermione is looking horrified, Weasley is gaping in his usual way and Harry keeps his gaze on Draco, which is both warming and frightening. Maybe it's frightening because it's warming, if Draco thinks of it. Which he doesn't. At all.

"Oh please, you're the Golden Trio, not a bunch of first years Huffelpuffs! You defeated the Dark Lord, for fuck's sake! What are you planning to do now?"

Hermione seems to recover first, taking a notebook and a quill out of her bag.

"You're right Draco. Okay, we need to plan this carefully. We'll only get one chance, and we have to succeed. Now that his alias is wanted all over the country, Lucius will probably stay quiet and remain home – how he managed to get out in the first place is beyond me, I mean the Aurors there should have seen that he was wandering out freely! Well, anyway, I think we need to go to Malfoy Manor and surprise him there. In a week we should be-"

"A week? No way, Hermione. We have to act quickly. I think we should go tomorrow." Weasley is pacing restlessly in front of Draco's fireplace, looking ready to punch someone.

"As strange as it is, I agree with Weasley. We don't have the luxury to wait and plan for days, Hermione. Lucius could decide to activate the curse anytime. Harry? What do you think?"

Harry smiles sadly and nods, and then reaches for his quill and parchment in his pocket, scribbling something while tugging at his hair. Draco nearly takes his left hand to make him stop, and then he remembers they're not alone. Hermione and Weasley read the parchment and give it to Draco, who rolls his eyes when he discovers what Harry has written.

_"I would prefer going alone. You will not be safe there, and I do not want anything happening to one of you. I can manage on my own."_

"Spare us your hero complex, Harry. There's no way those two will let you go alone and you know it. And I said I would come, so I will. Besides, you'll need me. I know Malfoy Manor and I know Lucius."

"Okay, I think Draco should pretend to visit his father to get in, and then… Draco, is there any weak point where you could lower the wards and try to get us in?"

"Yes, there is. The Aurors that guard the house probably don't even know about it. If you can manage to reach the winter garden, I could lower the wards for a few seconds, just enough to let you in without warning my father. Those are blood wards – my father would know if they're down for too long."

"Okay, so, Malfoy gets in and lower the wards. We get in, and then?" Weasley look less anxious now that they are discussing strategy – he's probably more at ease with action than he is with emotional stuff.

"Then we must convince Lucius to lift the curse." Hermione's jaw is set, and Draco must admit she's looking a bit scary in her determination.

"Good luck with that. He's a sick bastard. He's used to pain – Salazar knows we were submitted to the Cruciatus curse often enough. I have no idea how we could convince him. Not to mention we can't kill him, as we have no idea how it could affect the curse, or Harry."

"We will improvise, then. Don't look so surprised, Draco. Improvising is what we were doing most of the time during the war. We'll find a way."

Harry nods grimly, and Weasley sits finally down beside Hermione, putting a big arm around her slim shoulders. Improvising? Is this how Gryffindors really work? Draco glances at Harry. He's looking defeated and worried. He knows this is hopeless. He's aware there is very little chance that they can be successful tomorrow. They will most likely be dead before the sun sets.

Debby brings them turkey sandwiches and tea, and they eat in Draco's small living room.

"Is it just me, or does this actually feel like a last meal?" Draco winces at his poor joke. This was really lame.

"Very funny, Malfoy."

"Draco… You could get out as soon as we're in. There's no need for you to risk your life, especially since we will face your father… We would understand." Hermione is blushing slightly, and looks at Draco under lowered eyelashes.

"Absolutely not. I will not let Gryffindors get all the glory once more." Draco smirks, but deep down he's a bit frustrated to be given so little credit. Do they think him to be such a coward? Granted, he is. But he said he'll come. And he will not chicken out now.

Harry shifts next to him and touches his forearm lightly. Draco looks at him and the green eyes are full of understanding and of that strange warmth. It almost looks like tenderness. To his horror, Draco feels his cheeks heat at an alarming rate. Hermione unexpectedly saves him from the embarrassing moment by standing up, dragging Weasley with her.

"I guess we'll leave now. I've got some things to check before tomorrow – yes Ronald, this means I will read some of my books, there's no need to snort – and I think we all need to rest. Harry, we'll meet you here at two. Good night. Draco" she says with a kind smile and a nod, and Draco nods back.

Then they're alone, and it's a bit awkward, because Harry's hand is still on his arm, and he can feel the other man's warmth beside him, and the worse is he wants to lean closer, he wants to have more. He wants something he cannot have. He suddenly stands up, because it's confusing, and he doesn't want to think about what it is exactly he wants.

"Goodnight, Potter" he says without looking back, and he locks himself in his room.

Either way, it will be over tomorrow. Even if they survive – which is highly improbable – Harry will have his life back. He will leave, and everything will be alright again. Draco will go back to his quiet life. His quiet, lonely and depressing life.

Hopefully he will be killed.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Draco cannot sleep. It's nearly two in the morning and all he can do is thinking about all the ways their little adventure could go wrong. He finally gets up, deciding that a nice cup of tea could help. Well, it can't hurt, at least.

He's surprised to find Harry already seated in the small kitchen, a steaming cup before him, his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.

"Harry? Are you okay?"

Draco gasps when Harry lifts his head. He has been crying, and his hands are shaking.

"Harry… Shit, don't cry. You know I'm no good when it comes to comforting people and all. It'll be alright. You're the Savior, remember?"

Harry shakes his head and bits his lips, and he's looking so desperate that Draco feels his something break inside of him at the sight.

"Fuck, sorry, I know you hate that. I'm sorry, I told you I was no good. Are you worried about Hermione and Weasley? Right, stupid question, of course you're worried. I can't believe I'm actually about to say that, but they're tough, both of them. Hermione is smart and brave, and she'll probably study all night to be ready for tomorrow. And Weasley, well, he's an Auror, isn't he? And I mean, did you look at him lately? He's so big he could be Hagrid's son."

Harry chuckles weakly, and Draco feels better. He sits down next to Harry, and puts an arm around his waist. Harry immediately leans into him, resting his messy head on Draco's shoulder like it's something normal to do.

"They'll be alright. You'll be alright, you'll see."

Harry raises his head with a question in his eyes, and then he cups Draco's cheek with a warm and calloused hand.

"Yes, I'll be alright too – if Lucius doesn't kill me on the spot for letting you in."

Harry smiles sadly, his hand still on Draco's face – and fuck, but it burns so bad, this gentle touch, this feeling of hot skin against his, it's too much, and Draco wants to escape. But the dark haired man beside him shifts slightly, and then there are lips on Draco's lips, and there are hands in his hair, and it's worse, but it's wonderful, too. Draco loses himself in the kiss for one beautiful and blessed instant, and then he pulls back, shaking his head with his eyes still closed.

"No Harry. No. You don't want that. And I can't let you… You should go back to bed. I'll go now."

He cannot look at the other man, so he just leaves, going back to the safety of his room, trying to get his heart to beat again, because he's fairly sure it stopped a few moments ago – his chest is still painful, and his lips still tingle with the memory of what just happened.

It will be a wonderful thing to take with him, when he'll die tomorrow. The blissful spark of what could have been, in another life, in another reality.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past violence and abuse

**AN**: I believe this one was somewhat awaited! So here you are! And remember, do not hit the author ^^ and review!

Draco is not nervous. No, that would be a huge understatement. Actually he thinks he might faint if the others do not hurry the fuck up. Where the hell are they? Lucius will come and search for Draco anytime now. Draco managed to make him believe he wanted to visit the winter garden in memory of his mother – it always had been her favorite room in the Manor. But it has been at least ten minutes and there's still no sign of Hermione, Weasley and Harry outside of the glass wall. So Draco does not begin to panic, because Malfoys don't panic – well they do not let it show, anyway – but he's slightly worried. Perhaps a bit more than slightly.

A red head finally appears and Draco lowers the wards before opening the glass door. The three of them get in and Draco sets the wards again, hoping it was short enough for his father not to notice anything. What was what his mother used to say? "There's always hope, Draco. As long as the sun keeps rising every morning, there's hope". They need hope. And luck.

All three Gryffindors have their wands in hand, and Draco draws his, and gestures for them to follow him. Lucius should still be in the library, since he didn't come to find them. The Manor is dark and gloomy, and Draco shivers in spite of himself. He stops in front of the library's door, trying to steel himself. Weasley steps in front of Hermione, apparently decided to shield her, and he sees the young woman roll her eyes with a half-smile. Harry comes to stand beside him, and Draco curses himself inwardly for feeling actually a bit braver. He inhales deeply and opens the door.

Lucius is exactly where Draco left him earlier: seated in his leather chair, a glass of wine in his hand and a mad gleam in his eyes. He doesn't look surprised to see four persons invade the room with their wands drawn. In fact, he smirks and takes a sip of his wine before talking in a hoarse voice.

"Ah, Draco, you brought friends with you. Good, good."

"Father. There's no need to introduce my friends, is there?" Draco is actually quite proud of his ability to speak at all. He didn't think he would be able to. "And I think you know why we're here."

"Of course, you ungrateful child."

"I'm not a child anymore. And I have nothing to be grateful for. Not to you, anyway. So, would you please lift the curse? This way we can all go back home and nobody gets hurt." It sounds perfectly reasonable – too bad Lucius is insane.

Harry's hand is wrapped so tightly around his wand that his knuckles are white, and he seems to be boiling with rage. Draco is about to say something when Weasley takes a few steps and stands right in front of the blond aging man, his wand just a few inches away from his face.

"Listen carefully, you fucking madman. You will lift that curse right now, or I swear I'll use the worst curses I learned in my Auror training on you."

"Please remove your disgusting presence from my personal space, Weasley. Do you think you can actually threaten me? Draco, I didn't expect much from you, but that's even worse than I thought it was." Lucius turns his grey cold gaze on Harry, and his smirk comes back. "So, Potter, silent now are you? Do you know I've only to say one word to make a murderer out of you? One single word, Potter. One word and you will kill the garbage you call your friends."

Draco tries to think of something, but his brains seem to be frozen. He turns slightly to get a look at Hermione, and she's whispering under her breath, her wand moving slowly in circles. Good, at least one of them is actually doing something.

"Draco, will you please tell the Mudblood that I'm a accomplished Occlumens, and that she won't succeed in whatever it is she's trying to do on my mind."

Fuck. There's goes the clever plan of the Golden Trio's brains. Lucius stands up slowly, his gaze riveted on Harry, and Draco wants to do something, anything to avoid what will certainly happen now.

"Are you afraid, Potter? Yes, I can see you are. I will enjoy myself, you know. Praevitus Obitus Imperio!"

Hermione and Weasley both shout "no!" and Harry stiffens next to Draco, and then his eyes have this far away look that Draco only knows too well, and he knows it's over. Harry raises his hand and waves it once almost lazily, and his two best friends are violently thrown on the floor, soon bound by ropes and helplessly looking at each other. And Draco knows what this particular look means, too. It says goodbye. It says I love you. It says I'm sorry. Nobody can fight that curse, they stand no chance, it-

Wait. Harry was able to fight the Imperius curse a few years ago. He was the exception, as always.

"Harry! Harry look at me!" Draco tries to step in front of the raven haired, to catch his eyes, but Harry doesn't seem to see anything.

"You can fight it, Harry! I know you can!" Lucius snorts behind him, but Draco doesn't care. "Harry, you're the most powerful wizard alive. Look at them, Harry! They are your best friends. You don't want to kill them. You don't have to. You can just tell that voice in your head to fuck off. Resist, Harry. You can do it!"

Harry turns his head almost imperceptibly toward Draco, and there it is – hope.

"Yes, that's it, Harry. You can do it. You're so, so strong. Nothing can bring you down. Fight it, don't let it control you. You-"

"Sectumsempra!" Lucius shouts angrily behind him, and then Draco can feel only pain as his back is sliced open, and warm blood floods down his spine, and fuck, it's sixth year all over again. Except that this time, he knows he'll die.

"Harry… Fight it. You can do it." Draco falls on one knee, breathing heavily, and he sees Hermione looking at him with watery eyes, and Weasley fighting madly against the ropes, and he has to keep talking. He has to do this, he can do it.

"Don't let him win. Please, you owe me that. Kill him, Harry."

Green eyes are suddenly looking at him, really looking at him and not through him, and Harry raises his hand and Draco hears a loud thump behind him, and he lets himself fall to the ground.

Someone lifts his head softly – bushy hair, it's Hermione. Then he's lifted in warm arms, and he opens his eyes one last time. Green concerned eyes meet his, and he feels himself smile. Then the world disappears, and darkness takes him, like he knew it would.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past violence and abuse

**AN**: Thanks for your reviews! And to all my readers too! So, without further delay because I think you want to know what happens next, a new chapter! R&R please!

The pain in his back is excruciating, but it's not the worse. The worse is to realize that he did somehow manage to survive. How cruel is that? He opens his eyes carefully, and is blinded by all the white surrounding him for a painful instant.

"Draco? Thank God, you're awake. I was really worried. Are you in pain?"

He nods weakly, and the tired face of Mary is suddenly in front of him, and she pours a potion down his throat.

"There, you will feel better in a moment. The Healers had to regrow some of your back's skin, it was so damaged… Are you thirsty?"

Draco nods again, and Mary helps him to drink some cool water. The sharp pain in his back slowly changes into a dull ache, and he actually feels a bit better.

"It's been three days, Draco. They will be so relieved… They were worried sick, you know. Hermione and Ronald will probably be there in a few hours, they're coming every evening. And Harry… well he will probably be very angry with me, because he didn't leave your side and I finally managed to convince him to get home and get some sleep, he was actually dead on his feet…"

Mary sits carefully next to him, and there is a pained expression on her kind face that Draco doesn't like one bit.

"Draco… Your father is dead. I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't. I'm not."

And he's not. He's actually relieved. The man never had been a father to begin with. Mary takes his hand in her smaller one, smiling that wonderfully kind smile of hers.

"Okay, Draco. Hermione and Ronald have been busy, you know. Talking to the Aurors and the press while preventing both from bothering you and Harry… You will probably get the Order of Merlin, first class, if Hermione has her way – and I think she always does." Mary chuckles and Draco begins to panic.

"I have to get home." Draco tries to get up, but Mary puts her hands on his shoulders, looking bewildered.

"What? No, you're not healed, you can't go anywhere. Besides, your friends will kill me if I'd let you out now."

"They're not my friends." Fuck, but that hurts. "I don't want to see them. Please, I want to go home now."

"Draco, what's wrong? Of course you want to see them. Harry has been here day and night since he brought you here! He wants to see you!"

Draco shakes his head, because he doesn't want to explain. He doesn't want to say that he's afraid to see them, afraid because he knows it will all come back to normalcy again, they will go on with their life, and Draco will remain alone. Afraid because Harry will certainly thank him and then he will go, and fuck, but Draco doesn't think he can stand to witness that - even if the idea that Harry has waited for him to wake up is comforting, it doesn't mean anything. What he wants to remember are Hermione's tears for him, and Weasley's desperate fight, and Harry's eyes on him.

He shakes Mary's hand and stands up. He's wearing only pajama bottoms, probably because the skin on his back is still too sensitive. He's slightly swaying on his feet, but he can stand.

"Draco, wait, there's something I want to tell you about Harry!"

"I'm sorry, Mary. Thank you for everything."

Draco blinks his tears away angrily and appears right through St Mungo's wards. Apparently some of Harry's ability to do impossible things has rubbed on him – either that, or he's upset enough to have a spectacular magical boost.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Debby has been almost hysterical since his return, but it's good to be home nonetheless. Laying in his bed under the blankets, a mug of hot cocoa in his hands and with the soft light of the candles, Draco feels actually a bit better. The Floo is warded, and Debby won't let anyone in.

He's alive. He cannot believe it. He does not want to believe it. He had been so sure he would die that he had not thought about what could happen if he survived. If they all survived. So what now? Will they really give him an Order of Merlin while everybody will whisper behind his back about how he had probably been working with his father all along only to betray him at the last moment to save his ass? Then they will have done their duty, and will just forget about him as soon as possible.

So the question is, will he allow it? Will he play their game and smile for the photographs? _If Harry asks it from you, you'll do it_, a voice whispers in his mind unhelpfully. The hot cocoa smells of vanilla and cinnamon, just like he likes it. It tastes like home, and the soft bed sheets and covers feel like home too, but it's not enough. And it will probably never be enough again. How could it be enough without someone to get home to after work? Without the warm smiles and the kind looks and the small touches? All those things that Draco doesn't deserve, but craves so much. Understanding. Tenderness. Friendship. And warmth, so much warmth. Maybe it had only been this way because Harry had needed him and because he couldn't speak, too. Maybe Draco wouldn't have fallen in love with him otherwise and-

Oh no. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It cannot be. But that's what it is, right?

Just as Draco realizes this rather disturbing information, Debby walks in with what looks like a folded parchment in her skinny hand.

"An owl just brought this for Master Draco" she says, and then she's gone and Draco is left with a letter. He recognizes the hand script as soon as he sees it. It's Harry's.

_"Dear Draco,_

_I hope you are alright. I know you probably don't want to get back to the hospital, but please allow Mary to check on you soon. She told us how you left and what you said. _

_I don't even know where to begin. I am deeply sorry for your father. I wish there had been another way, but when I saw you injured and bleeding, and Hermione and Ron bound like that, my magic acted before my head. I hope you can forgive me one day._

_I would understand if you did not want to see me ever again, but please think about it. We all would like to have you as our friend. I would like to see you. Could I come to your place tomorrow night? I would bring one of these pizzas with loads of cheese and vegetables and spicy oil you pretend you do not like._

_Harry"_

Draco tries unsuccessfully to remain cool and composed, but his heart is beating madly and his hands are shaking and sweating. It's a bit frightening how badly he wants to give in and see Harry again. But he knows what he has to do, and he Summons a quill to write his answer directly on the back of Harry's letter.

_"Potter,_

_I do not wish to see you, tomorrow or ever. Please kindly refrain to send your owl again._

_D. Malfoy"_

There. This way Harry won't come, and he won't want to try to write again, and Draco will have a chance to forget about his foolish feelings.

He doesn't need anyone. He isn't right for anyone. He will do well on his own, as he always has.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past violence and abuse

**AN**: Sorry I made you wait, but I had to choose between two paths for our heroes and it was kind of hard! That being said, please enjoy! R&R please!

As it is, it seems it's easier to get rid of dark lords than of Gryffindors. Bloody idiots are nothing if not persistent. Hermione already came twice to his flat – only to be left in front of the door, and even Weasley sent an owl this morning, asking him to "pull his head out of his arse and fucking talk at least to Harry". He has heard nothing from Harry though, which is certainly a good thing. Even if Draco is a little disappointed. But, well, this is exactly what he wanted to achieve, isn't it?

It has been two days, and Draco recovers fine enough. Mary has come to check on him the day before, muttering angrily about stubborn gits and sulking openly, but she said he was alright, or, as she put it "at least your body is". She has hugged him tightly before leaving, and Draco has been insanely relieved to discover that she would still be his friend, no matter what. Everything is good, until he reaches the kitchen to have breakfast, and unfolds the Daily Prophet. He chokes on his tea and stays frozen, his eyes glued to the front page.

_"A new hero for the Wizarding World: Ex-Death Eater Draco Malfoy saved Harry Potter's life!"_

There was a short paragraph explaining very briefly how Harry had been cursed and how Draco, together with war heroes Hermione and Weasely, went to his rescue, and ended badly wounded. Lucius is not mentioned, the newspaper only states that the wizard responsible for Harry's curse and disappearance is dead. Hermione had given a short – but quite flattering – interview, but what shocks Draco the most is the last paragraph.

_"Harry Potter refused to give any interview but sent our reporter a short letter:_

_I would like to thank Draco Malfoy for saving my life once again. I really hope he will be rewarded for his bravery and selflessness, because very few people would have been able to do what he did to protect me, as well and Hermione and Ronald Weasley. Draco has been a close friend of mine for some time now, and I owe him not only my life, but my sanity as well. He has helped me get through very hard times and I do not think I will ever be able to repay this debt."_

The reporter concludes with some less flattering comments about Draco's possible ulterior motives and a short reminder of Draco's involvement during the war –as if anyone needs a reminder. Draco knows exactly what Harry is doing. And he's glad that the idiot is not here anymore, or he would have most likely punched him in the face. Draco is lost in thought for a while, and he startles badly when he hears a loud "pop" beside him. The ugliest house-elf Draco has ever seen is looking straight at him, clutching a letter in one of his hand.

"Sir? Are you Draco Malfoy?"

"Hum… Yes?"

"Kreacher is honored to meet the Malfoy's heir, yes, honored, Sir… My master" the house-elf says with a sneer "has asked Kreacher to give you this letter, Sir."

Draco takes the letter and unfolds the parchment, wondering who the hell has sent him this horrid house-elf. He inhales sharply as he reads.

_"Dear Draco,_

_I know you wrote that I shouldn't send my owl again, but you did not mention anything about house-elves."_ Draco can almost see the smug smirk on Harry's face as he has written this. The sneaky bastard. "_I understood you don't want to talk to me, and I will not bother you anymore after this. I just wanted to thank you once more – I suppose you have already read the Prophet today. Hermione has arranged for you to get the Order of Merlin, first class, and I would really like you to accept it. I will not be there on the official ceremony, so you will not be embarrassed by my behavior or my current state. Once again, I am deeply sorry that things ended that way with your father. I have to go away for a while. I hope you can forgive me, and maybe we could still be friends when I will be back._

_Yours truly,  
Harry."_

What is this about now? The ugly house-elf looks at him with a bored expression, and before Draco can say anything, he raises his hand to clap his fingers, but Draco cannot let him go, not now.

"Oh no you don't!"

Draco's shout is muffled as he grips Kreacher's skinny wrist and feels the weird tug of Apparition.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Fuck. Draco struggles to stand as Kreacher pulls his wrist out of the tight grip of Draco's hand. They have landed in a gloomy and dark kitchen and the house-elf is glaring at him. Draco realizes he's in pajamas, barefoot and, worse, his hair is probably sticking in all directions from his long stay in bed. Shit. He hasn't even his wand with him, and he has foolishly Apparated with a unknown house-elf to an unknown place.

There are light footsteps coming his way, and Draco doesn't know if he musts hide or prepare to fight. He cannot be certain this is really Harry's house – it seems unlikely that the Savior lives in such a shabby house. Kreacher has not moved, his enormous watery eyes still on Draco. And suddenly Harry is there, in faded jeans and an oversized tee-shirt, holding a worn-out travel bag in one hand and a leather jacket. The green eyes go from Kreacher to Draco, widening a little behind the glasses. Kreacher shrugs and just leaves the room.

"Well, Harry, what the hell is this with the Prophet and that bullshit about an Order of Merlin?"

Harry grins widely, apparently very pleased with himself, and sets his bag and his jacket on the floor, before leaning in the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest.

"And where are you going anyway?"

Draco feels like an idiot, standing there in pajamas. Harry just looks at him, the green eyes gentle and sad at the same time, a shy smile on his handsome face. Fuck, but he's beautiful, even dressed like a hobo and in this awful house. The silence soon becomes deafening, and Draco cannot understand why Harry doesn't say something, anything.

"Harry? Why are you just looking at me like that? Say something, for fuck's sake!"

But Harry doesn't. He takes a small notebook and a muggle byro from his back pocket, writing something hastily. He shows the notebook to Draco with an apologetic smile.

_"I'm sorry. I still can't talk. I fought the Imperio but Lucius was killed before the curse was lifted."_

"What?" Draco reads the words again, but they make no sense. No, it cannot be. It just can't.

"You mean… Shit, Harry… Why didn't you let me know in your first letter?"

Harry's face closes, his expression one of anger and fierce pride, and he writes again.

_"I didn't want your pity."_

That's something Draco can understand. Harry's face relaxes a bit, and the byro scratches again against the paper.

_"I'm sorry for your father. How is your back?"_

"I'm fine, I'm fine. What did Hermione say about your muteness? And the Healers?"

_"There's nothing to do about it. I have to accept it. I accept it."_

"Okay… Where are you going then?"

_"Somewhere I need to go. Please stay in touch with Hermione and Ron. They like you, you know. Keep an eye on them for me, will you?"_

"Will you come back? Do Hermione and Weasley know where you are going?"

_"They don't know exactly. That's something I need to do alone. I can't be a burden for everyone again. I hope I will come back soon."_

"But…" Draco feels cold, all of a sudden, cold, and more alone that ever – which is stupid, really, because Harry isn't a part of his life anyway. "I need you" he blurts out, and then he closes his eyes in shame. What the fuck is wrong with him?

When he opens them again, Harry is just in front of him. The dark haired man smiles softly, and he takes Draco's hand. Harry Apparates them away, and they're in Draco's flat again, and Harry leads him to the couch. Harry's hand comes up to cup Draco's jaw, his fingers light and soothing. The green eyes bore in his, searching for something, and Draco cannot stand it anymore. He closes the space between them and brushes his lips against Harry's. There's a soft gasp, and Draco doesn't know if it comes from his or Harry's throat, and then it doesn't matter because Harry kisses him back, and just for a few seconds it's only about soft lips and warm mouths. All that tenderness that's not for men like Draco.

Too soon, far too soon, Harry pulls back and stands up, his cheeks flushed and his gaze slightly unfocused. He seems torn, and he bits his lower lip, and Draco thinks for a moment he might stay, but then Harry shakes his head and smiles sadly. And he's gone, and Draco stays on the couch, swearing softly and wondering why he can't do anything right.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past violence and abuse

**AN**: And here you are! New chapter, longer than usual, which will most likely answer your questions... R&R please!

Draco tugs nervously on his collar with his index, and in the mirror he sees Weasley smirks evilly behind him. He puts his best scowl on his face, but the redhead only snorts and shakes his head. Damn. He never should have made friends with this one. Not that he's complaining, though. Hermione and Weasley have been wonderful friends for the past three months. Hermione has gotten on with Mary from the beginning, and the four of them regularly meet for dinners or brunches on Sundays. With one addition lately, since Mary and George Weasley seem completely smitten with each other. Today they're all at the Ministry for the stupide Order of Merlin's ceremony, and Weasley waits with him behind the curtains of the huge stage.

It's funny how things are easy with the redhead. It took only one spiteful comment on Draco in Diagon Alley to erase years of distrust and hate. "Death Eater scum... you don't fool me, even if they believe you!" someone had shouted at him while he was shopping with Mary, Hermione and Weasley. He had felt himself stiffen with shame, because it was right, wasn't it? But Weasley had become as red as his hair, drawing his wand in one swift movement. "Excuse me? Were you there when this man saved our lives during the war? Were you there when he saved our lives again a few weeks ago? No, you weren't. You were probably comfortably home. But I was there both times. And this man you've just insulted is one of the bravest person I know. And I fought during the war, I'm an Auror, I know a lot about bravery. Just get lost before I hex you into something more loathsome than you already are". Draco had not said anything, probably gaping at Weasley in a stupid way, but he finally had managed to gather his wits and had offered his hand to the redhead, which the other man had accepted.

Which leads them to that exact moment, Draco fidgeting nervously, a few minutes before receiving his bloody medal, and Weasley looking highly amused – he has probably been sent by Hermione to keep an eye on Draco and ensure that he doesn't leave before he's called. Which is exactly what Draco longs to do, actually. He wishes for a second that Harry was here with him, instead of Weasley, but quickly let go of that thought. Harry is away. He has sent several owls to Hermione, short notes where he just wrote he was alright and hoped they were okay too. It's one of the only things they don't talk about with Hermione and Weasley. The only truly taboo topic. Draco sighs. He's doing well. He has friends now, his business is doing better – thanks to Hermione and Mary, who somehow convinced St Mungo's to deal with Draco when it comes to rare potion ingredients, and he's better, he feels more confident, there are fewer nightmares and fewer tears at night. Maybe he's beginning to heal. It should be enough. But it's not. Harry is always in a corner of his mind. Draco knows he should move on, because even if Harry comes back, even if he has not made a new life wherever he is now, nothing will ever happen between them.

Draco jumps a little when Weasley hits him on the shoulder, rolling his eyes almost fondly. And then the red head pushes him through the curtains, and Draco is on stage, and everyone is silent. Merlin, there is so many people. Kingsley Shacklebot smiles kindly at Draco, and takes his elbow to walk him a bit further on the stage. The tall dark man casts a Sonorus on his throat, and begins to speak, but Draco doesn't hear anything. All he can do is staring at all those people. There are some flashes, and fuck, now there will be photographs of him looking utterly stupid all over the newspaper tomorrow.

He spots Hermione and Mary in the crowd, smiling encouragingly at him and tries to smile back. Shaklebot is smiling too, and he pins the Order of Merlin in front of Draco's robes, just above his heart, and everybody applauds, some more enthusiastically than others. Draco knows he has to say something before he can flee this nightmare, so he casts a Sonorus on his own throat with a trembling hand.

"Er... thank you. I... I actually had prepared something to say, but I can't remember. I'm just..." Draco closes his eyes. He can't do this. Fuck. He feels a hand on his shoulder, and when he turns his head, Weasley is just behind him, towering him. He raises a red eyebrow and squeezes his shoulder once, urging him to go on. Draco inhales deeply.

"I know that most of you are wondering why someone like me is being rewarded like that. I can only agree with you. I don't deserve any of this. I've done terrible things in my life. Yes, I was young. Yes, I was scared for my family and for my life. But more than that, I didn't think that anyone would be willing to give me a hand, back then. I didn't think I could ask for help. And that was my biggest mistake. If only I had asked for help, things could have been different. If there is one thing that I would like to say, it's this: please, never hesitate to ask for help or to offer your help. Now I'm trying to make it up for all the wrong I've done. I know it will never be enough, but I will not give up on trying, and because I got help, I want to help others in turn. There are wonderful persons here tonight. People that have helped me, regardless of who I was. This Order of Merlin is not for me. It's for them. It is for Mary Wilson, the most wonderful nurse I know. It is for Hermione and Ronald Weasley, the most amazing friends one could have – and probably the loveliest couple of the Wizarding World as well. And it is for Harry Potter, who saved my life thrice. Thank you."

Weasley squeezes his shoulder once more, and drags him down the stage and through the crowd, where he's nearly hugged to death by Hermione and Mary, both looking at him with tear-filled eyes.

"Draco… That was so nice of you."

"It's just the truth." Draco shrugs awkwardly, and he's extremely relieved to see Weasley come back with glasses. They drink and talk a little, and suddenly Weasley's eyes lighten, and he looks at Draco with a smug grin that sends bells ringing in his mind.

"Draco… You said that Harry saved your life thrice, but I remember only the Fiendfyre?"

"Well, Harry saved us all when he got rid of Voldermort, didn't he? And as for the third time… I think he doesn't even know it, but when I took him from St Mungo's, I didn't save him. He saved me from myself."

They're all looking at him now, and Draco shifts from foot to foot uncomfortably. Mary smiles softly and gestures for him to turn around, and when he does, he suddenly forgets how to breathe. Harry's here. Looking even more handsome than usual in forest green robes and smiling brilliantly. And he's not alone. Ginny and Dean Thomas are next to him, hand in hand and both looking uncertain, and a woman that Draco only recalls vaguely from Hogwarts is attached to Harry's arm. Draco feels so many things at the same time that he's afraid he might faint for a moment. Relief, love, anger, jealousy. Really, what did he expect? Of course Harry has found someone. Someone more suitable than Draco. Someone worthy of him. And who wouldn't want this man? Draco cannot blame her – even if he feels the overwhelming need to strangle her with her shimmering silver dress.

He's sure he will do or say something stupid, so he stiffly nods at them all, and flees as quickly as he can. He steps into the Ministry Floo and only hears Weasley shouting "Malfoy, wait, you stupid-" before the Floo flares and takes him away.

HP-HP-HP-HP

He falls to his knees before his mother's grave, choking back a sob. He doesn't even know why he's here, he didn't come once since the funeral. And yet here he is, and it's raining so much that his pearl grey robes are soaked within minutes, and he doesn't know what to do.

"I miss you so much, Mother… I wish you were here to guide me, to tell me that it's going to be alright. I'm sorry I didn't come to see you before. I didn't want to, because it would have meant it was real. But it's real, you're gone. Fuck."

He's crying now, and he doesn't even know why. He's crying and talking to a fucking tombstone. Maybe he should tell his mother how he's doing?

"I'm doing fine, you know. I think you would be proud of me. I hope so. My business is going better, and I've made new friends. Real friends. I think I'm going to be alright. There's just… Nothing, don't worry. Nothing."

He wipes his tears, shivering because he's dripping wet and it's cold outside. He stands up slowly, not even bothering to clean his robes.

*Draco? Draco…*

Someone is calling him, but it sounds weird, like - wait. It does not sound. Because Draco has not heard it with his ears, but in his head. He turns around, wand at the ready, and Harry is standing in front of him.

*Are you alright?*

That's it. His lips don't move, his whole face is still, but he talking to Draco in his mind.

"What the fucking hell… Are you a Telepath now?"

Harry smiles softly, and nods. Draco wants to reach out to him, to kiss him again. He knows he can't, though.

"Is this why you had to go away? To learn Telepathy?"

*Yes. I hated to have to write everything down, so most of the time I just didn't, and it was so frustrating. I knew that Katie could help me, so I wrote to her, and she agreed to teach me. I lived with her all this time, she's awesome.*

Draco's chest aches and he struggles to keep a cool mask on his face. He's not sure he's successful, if Harry's concerned look is any clue.

*Draco? Are you alright? I'm sorry I left like that, but I had to, I don't want to be a burden, to have to rely constantly on people like I relied on you after my injury.*

"It's okay." It's not. "You should go back to the ceremony, Katie's probably worried about you." And Draco will keep the memories of two kisses and a few weeks of wonderful feelings to keep him warm. He can do that. If Harry is happy, then he can do it. He has to and he will. He'll survive this like he did everything else. He tries to smile, hoping it does not seem like a grimace.

*Katie?* Harry seems confused. *She's already home. Draco, you're cold, you're shivering.*

Is he? Yes, he supposes he is. Draco shrugs, watching Harry through damp strands of hair. Harry. He should go home to find Katie.

"I'll go home now. You should do the same, or Katie will have my head if you get a cold."

Draco tries to laugh, but the sound dies in his throat, and Harry looks even more confused than before. He shakes that messy dark haired head of his, and comes near Draco, sneaking an arm around his waist, and fuck, but it feels good.

The world disappears as Harry Apparates them both away, and Draco's last thought is that he would really like to die now, just like that, with Harry's arm around him and his warmth like a comforting blanket.


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past violence and abuse

**AN:** And here you are! Thank you for the wonderful reviews, and please give me more! I think there will be one or maybe two more chapters after this one! R&R please!

They stumble ungracefully in Draco's living-room, and Harry doesn't release him. Instead he's looking up at him with that incredible green stare of his, and even if Draco is the taller one, he feels weak and small right now. Merlin, he's such a loser. He pulls away almost brutally and puts his best sneer on his face.

"Well, Potter, now that you've done your job as the Savior once again, would you please leave? I think I need a hot shower and tea."

*Draco, what's wrong? Why are you calling me Potter?*

"Well, it's your name, isn't it?"

*You used to call me Harry.*

"I used to do a lot of stupid things."

*I don't understand. Why are you doing this? Why are you pushing me away like that?*

Harry seems genuinely hurt, and Draco feels his chest constrict at the sight. But his own survival is at stake, and Harry will get over it quickly enough. He doesn't need Draco.

"Get over it, Potter. Just leave." Harry has to leave, before Draco loses his head. The raven haired man doesn't move, so Draco turns on his heels and makes his way to the bathroom with what he hopes is a confident stride. He closes the door softly, resting his forehead against the cool wood. He hears a door bang, and he knows Harry is gone.

He doesn't know if he's more disappointed or relieved. Certainly the tears that are currently running down his face should be a clue, but he doesn't know. He doesn't know anything anymore, because there's just pain, a whole new pain.

This must be what heartbreak feels.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Weasley is looking really angry. He's standing in Draco's kitchen, his arms crossed on his broad chest, and he's watching Draco with something akin to exasperation. Draco has been seated in the kitchen to eat his breakfast after a sleepless night. Why Debby has let the red head in is a mystery, and she's nowhere to be seen. Draco has a pounding headache and he's sleepy and in a very bad mood, so he just gestures for the other man to sit down – now that he's here, he might as well have tea with him. After a second mug of hot and strong tea, Draco finally looks up at Weasley. Who is raising a single eyebrow in a very Malfoyish manner – it's rather disturbing.

"So, Weasley. Why are you here? I don't remember inviting you over for breakfast this morning."

"You're really an idiot, you know."

"Excuse me?"

"Look, there's something you should know about Harry. He has no real family, even if he's almost a Weasley, and he has very few friends. Mione and I are the only ones he really trusts with everything. Probably because we knew from the beginning that if he had to protect the world, we had to protect him. Harry rarely thinks about himself, about his safety or his wellbeing. That's why we do it for him. We protect him and we care for him as best as we can. And now you are a part of it, too."

"Weasley, I never-"

"Shut up and listen Malfoy. Harry is my best mate. Hell, he's practically my brother. And I swear to myself I would protect him, no matter what. He's really down right now, and it's your fault. So you'd better fix it, Malfoy, or I'll send Hermione. And she's not an Auror, so she's far less scrupulous about spells – and with brains like hers, I don't need to tell you she knows pretty vicious ones."

"I didn't do anything to Harry!"

"Harry has very few people to love in his life. But once he loves, it's for life. When he first told us he was gay, he was so desperate… He thought about what the newspapers would write once they would know, and he was afraid he couldn't find someone who would love him, just for him, Harry. He was always quite self-conscious – those awful Muggles who raised him are to blame for this, if you ask me. Well, anyway, I know him, and I know he has feelings for you. Don't ask me why. You're not so bad I guess, but still. And I saw the way you're looking at him. Why the hell did you reject him like an evil git?"

"And what about Katie?"

"What about her?"

"Well, Harry told me he has been living with her for the past three months and that she's awesome and she was his date at the ceremony."

Weasley blinks at him like a stoned owl.

"You think Harry and Katie are dating? You're something else, Malfoy. Did you miss the part where I said Harry is gay? And Katie is engaged to Lee Jordan. That's why you left? Because you thought Harry and Katie were together?"

"Well, yes."

Draco actually feels a bit like a moron. Shit.

"Well, they're not. Now that this is cleared, go to Harry and fix this mess."

"What? No, I can't." He can't see Harry. Can he?

"You can and you will. He's locked himself in Grimmauld Place – the Black House, Malfoy. Kreacher was really upset last night, he came to our flat saying that Harry wouldn't eat anything and was drinking gin. Harry hates gin, so it's really bad. So you're going to call Kreacher and he'll take you to Harry and you'll fix this!"

"What do you want me to do about it? Even if Harry actually likes me" and that's something Draco would rather not think about "I'm not right for him. There is nothing I can do."

"Stop being a fucking coward, Malfoy. You love him, even I can see it, and anyone will tell you I'm the most oblivious guy in the world. So stop doing this to him, and to yourself. You're the only one who thinks you're unworthy. Forgive yourself and move on."

Weasley stands up and leaves the kitchen, shouting from the flat's door

"Oh, and Malfoy, if you ever hurt Harry, I'll hex your balls off. Auror or not, nobody hurts Harry."

Fuck. Is he able to go and see Harry? Tell him how he feels?

Narcissa's beautiful face appears in front of his mind, smiling softly. He suddenly knows what he has to do. First, call his lawyer. It's something he should have done years ago.

Then he'll go to find Harry.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Draco doesn't know what he has expected, but that was certainly not the sight currently before his eyes. Harry is laying on the couch on his side, on arm under his head, the other clutching an empty bottle of Firewhiskey. His knees are folded and nearly touch his chest. He looks like a child. Well, a very drunk child, but still. There are bottles on the ground, and an untouched plate of sandwiches on the coffee table, which Kreacher has probably brought earlier in a vain attempt to make Harry eat something.

"Harry… Fuck, what are you doing to yourself?"

Harry doesn't react, so Draco comes nearer, and finally sits on the couch next to him.

"Harry? Do you hear me?"

Harry blinks at him, then smiles drunkenly and snuggles closer, until his head rests on Draco's lap. He sighs contentedly and closes his eyes. Draco's chest aches wonderfully.

"No, Harry, you can't sleep here. Let's take you to the bedroom, shall we?"

Harry doesn't seem to hear or understand Draco, so he just gather the smaller man in his arms and calls Kreacher softly, so that the house-elf can lead him to Harry's bedroom. Kreacher opens a door at the end of a dark hallway, and Draco is a bit surprised to discover a room with pale green walls and a soft cream rug. A king sized bed with emerald covers is in the middle, and a wardrobe in a corner. Kreacher pushes the covers away before leaving the room, and Draco tucks Harry in. He's about to go when a hand catches his wrist in a strong grip, and green eyes are on him.

"Harry? Do you need something?"

Harry shakes his head – apparently he's too drunk to do Telepathy, or maybe he doesn't even remember he can do such a thing. He tugs on Draco's arm insistently, and raises the covers on the side of the bed.

Something in Draco breaks. Harry means for him to sleep here. With him. In the same bed. Draco wants to say no, he really wants to, but before he can utter a single word, he's already laying in the bed next to Harry, who apparently likes to cuddle even in his drunken state – or maybe because of it - since he drapes himself over Draco, nestling his messy head in the crook of the blond man's neck. It feels nice. No, scratch that, it feels fucking amazing and so, so right.

Hopefully Harry will remember he was the one to invite Draco here tomorrow. Draco would prefer not to be hexed into oblivion first thing in the morning.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past violence and abuse

**AN:** Probably one more after that. Enjoy and review!

Draco wakes up feeling warm and rested. His back is especially warm, in fact. And there's an arm around his waist. And then he remembers. Harry. Harry is spooned behind him in a protective embrace, his strong arm keeping Draco against him, and his breath in Draco's neck. Fuck. Maybe if Draco escapes now, he can pretend nothing happened. As soon as he begins to move, Harry's arm tightens around him, and there's a soft voice in his head.

*Stay put. I'm comfortable. And if I move or open my eyes I'll remember just how much I drank yesterday.*

"Okay" Draco whispers quietly. Lips brush against his neck and he shivers. This is a very, very bad idea. He can't relax, and surely Harry is aware how stiff and still he is, and that thought makes him even more anxious.

*You okay?*

"Yes… I- I'm just not used to this."

*Cuddles?*

"Yes. And, well, relationships in general, I guess." Draco feels ill at ease, and he's suddenly glad that Harry cannot see his flushed face.

*But do you like it? I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable.*

"I think I do. Like it, I mean."

*That's good. I like it too.*

Harry's fingertips trace small patterns on Draco's shirt covered stomach, and the silver-blonde man finds it hard to breathe. He's saved from his embarrassment when Kreacher suddenly enters the room with a tray.

"Kreacher has brought Master Harry and his noble guest breakfast. Master Harry is a bad human. He doesn't deserve the Hangover Potion. But since Master Harry has a guest, Kreacher brought one. Eat now."

Kreacher puts the tray on the bed foot, opens the curtains with a flick of his skinny hand and strides out of the bedroom, and Harry chuckles quietly against Draco's skin, making goose bumps erupt along his spine.

*I guess it's a good thing you stayed, or he would have pestered me all day and hid the Hangover Potions.*

Harry moves away slowly, and Draco releases a breath he didn't know he has been holding. He sits up carefully and watches with a smirk as Harry crawls awkwardly to the tray and swallows his Hangover Potion with a relieved sigh.

*Was it Hermione or Ron?*

"What?"

*Who makes you come here. Was it Hermione or Ron?*

"Oh! Weasley, actually."

*I would have bet on Hermione.*

"Do you feel better? You should eat something."

*Yes, mum.* Harry's childish grin makes Draco's gut twists in a funny way, and he has to look away. Harry hands him a cup of tea and then sips on his own. Draco watches as he picks some scrambled eggs with a fork, a small frown on his face, as if he's trying to make sure he will keep them down. Draco chuckles.

"Give me one toast, Harry. The less burnt one. Why the hell do you keep that horrid house-elf? I mean, he doesn't seem very nice to you, and he obviously doesn't know how to cook."

*He's not so bad. Besides, it's better than living alone here.*

A shadow passes on Harry's face, like the memory of a long-lasting pain, something deep and dark that makes Draco's heart hurt a little. Perhaps more than a little.

"Harry? It's alright, I understand. I should probably go."

*Please don't. I know you're only there because Ron asked you to, but… please.*

Draco reaches out before he realizes what he's doing, and he drags his hand through the dark messy hair. It's soft and thick, just like Draco thought it would be. Not that he often thinks of Harry's hair, of course.

"You know nobody could make me do something I don't want to do. I'm just as stubborn as you are. I'm here because I want to be."

Harry nods, his eyes downcast. Draco chews a little on his bottom lip before he throws caution to the wind and moves to sit behind Harry, putting his arms loosely around the other man.

"Hey. I'm sorry I was an arsehole yesterday. Well, more than usual, anyway. And… I'm so sorry for what Lucius did to you."

*None of this is your fault. Besides, it's not so bad, now that I've found a way to communicate.*

"Always your optimistic Gryffindor self, aren't you? You've been injured, cursed, you and your best friends were nearly killed, and it's not so bad?"

*Well, no. We are all safe and sound. And thanks to that injury, we have met again, and learnt to know each other. All in all, it could have been much worse.*

Draco shakes his head, torn between incredulity and amusement.

"You're really something else. I… I have something to ask you, Harry."

Harry turns around, and kneels on the bed in front of Draco. His eyes are shining with some emotion that Draco cannot place.

"I went to my lawyer yesterday. I don't want to be a Malfoy anymore. I don't want to be associated with Lucius in any way. I would like to take my mother's maiden name. The Black family is not nearly as bad as the Malfoys, and, well, I would prefer to be linked to my mother. Since Sirius Black made you Head of the House when he died, I need your permission, and your signature to take the name."

Harry looks disappointed, but he nods with a weak smile.

*Of course, Draco. Just bring the papers over and I'll sign them. I can understand why you would prefer being Draco Black instead of Draco Malfoy.*

"Thank you, Harry. I don't know how I will ever repay you for that, but just ask, I'll do anything."

There's suddenly a malicious gleam in Harry's eyes, and Draco wonders if he should have said the last bit.

*Anything? Well, since you'll be a Black, I know what you could do. This place is horrible. I've tried to make it better, but with the exception of this room, it's still pretty awful. I could use some help to redecorate and clean the house.*

"It's obviously necessary. How you managed to survives in that house is a miracle."

Harry smiles, but it's somewhat guarded, and it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Are you alright, Harry?"

Harry shakes his head slowly, his eyes never leaving Draco's.

"What's wrong?"

*Am I your friend, Draco?*

"Well, yes, I guess so." Draco doesn't like where this seems to be going.

*Would you like to be more than a friend?*

Draco inhales sharply, looking with wide eyes at Harry. He would like to lie. But he knows there's no way he will be able to, not with Harry looking at him like that, not with his body so close that he swears he can feel Harry's burning warmth.

"Yes. And no."

*It can't be both, Draco.*

"Yes it can. Because I'm confused. Last time I checked, I wasn't even gay for fuck's sake! And because I'm not right for you. Whether I change my name or not, I'm still Lucius' son, I'm still a Death Eater. I'm still someone everyone hates and despises."

*That's bullshit and you know it. You're a good man, you've got friends, you've a got a good reputation in your work field, and you've been decorated. What are you really afraid of?*

Draco closes his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control again.

"I don't know. Maybe that you'll someday realizes who I am. Maybe that I'll somehow fuck up, because I'm pretty sure I will. Maybe that I'll not able to survive without you when you'll leave if I begin to believe we can be together. I don't know."

Harry doesn't answer, and Draco opens his eyes to look at him, but he has trouble to focus because Harry's face is far too close, and then their lips meet, and his eyes flutter close again. Harry slips one hand behind Draco's head, and the other one on his hip, and Draco doesn't know what to do with his own hands, and fuck, surely he's supposed to do something, but he just can't think through the blissful feel of Harry's lips.

Then they're laying on the bed, with Harry's hard body over his, Harry's hips settled between his thighs, and they're kissing like there's no tomorrow. When Harry pulls away, he just looks in Draco eyes with a shy smile, his hair even messier than usual and his cheeks beautifully pink.

*Sorry. I got a little carried away. But I've wanted to do this for so long. You okay?*

Draco can only nod, because if he so much as opens his mouth, he's fairly sure he will blurt out something very embarrassing. His hands seem to have a life of their own, since they're currently running up and down Harry's back. Under his oversized tee-shirt. On that fucking, fucking smooth skin. Shit.

*No, please, don't stop. It feels so good. Do you know how hard I've fallen for you? How much I want you? Not just sexually, even if I do, too. I want you to stay, I want to take care of you as you took care of me. I felt so numb before. But with you, it's like I'm alive again, because you're witty and sarcastic and you're not impressed by me, and at the same time you're caring and protective. And Merlin, you're so handsome…*

Draco feels breathless, and Harry doesn't help, since he's currently trailing kisses down his throat while unbuttoning his shirt.

*Is it too fast? Tell me if you want me to stop, Draco.*

"No. No, it's not."

Draco spins them around, pinning Harry to the bed and kissing him. He feels Harry grin against his lips, and he knows it will be alright. Somehow, they will be alright.


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past violence and abuse

Draco exits the bathroom, clad in one of Harry's tee-shirt and a pair of black sweat pants – those muggle things are pretty ugly, but rather comfortable, he has to admit. There is a sweet and spicy smell in the hallway that makes his stomach grumble and Draco goes to the kitchen. He stops at the door, watching Harry unpack what looks like muggle take-away food. The dark haired man is humming quietly to himself, his hair still wet from his earlier shower, barefoot on the cold tiles, as he seems to prefer. He's looking strangely content, and Draco wonders with a pang if his presence has something to do with it. Harry looks up and grins, and Draco realizes he's smiling widely. He feels himself blush and curses under his breath. Harry's carefree and happy expression disappears and he seems suddenly uncertain. And Draco can't stand it, no matter how foolish and stupid he feels, no matter if he struggles not to flee because it seems too much, all those feelings.

"So, what's this?"

*Vegetables curry and coconut rice. I didn't know what you liked so I ordered what I prefer. I can go back if you want something else.*

"No, it's perfect. I'm starving and it smells wonderful."

Harry smiles tentatively, but doesn't meet Draco's gaze. The blonde walks around the kitchen's table and takes Harry in his arms from behind, and smiles when the raven haired's breath hitches in his throat. It's surprising and a bit scary how easily he's getting used to touch and hold Harry.

"Tell me Harry, which room should we begin with? I think this black bathroom is rather depressing, it would be a good idea to change the tiles, what do you think?"

Draco feels Harry relax against him, and he knows that the other man understands what Draco cannot say – that he's okay with them together, that he wants to stay.

*Well, I can only agree with you. Merlin knows I thought about slicing my wrists open quite a few times in there.*

Draco's hold tightens around Harry.

"Do you think… Do you think we're maybe too damaged?"

*No. There's always hope. Even for us.*

"That's what my mother used to tell me. That as long as the sun keeps rising, there's hope. It won't be easy, though."

*I'm Harry Potter. I don't do easy.*

Draco chuckles before trailing his lips on Harry's neck, stopping only to whisper in his ear.

"And I'm a Slytherin. I only like the best. And what's best than Harry Potter? Shall we eat now that it's settled that we make a perfect couple?"

Draco hopes he sounds more confident than he feels. Harry turns around in his arms, pecking him lightly on the lips before sitting down to eat. Draco sits beside him, enjoying the companionable silence of their lunch, the quiet tenderness of every little touch, the caring weight of Harry's gaze on him.

"You know Harry, I thought about this redecorating thing. It won't be very easy for you to live here during the works, so you should come and live in my flat until it's done."

Draco tries to sound nonchalant. He focus on the curry, a bit worried that Harry doesn't answer at all. He finally dares meeting the green eyes, and Harry's looking at him with kind and shiny eyes, and he's smiling softly, and he's clutching his fork so tightly that his knuckles are white.

*Okay. And then, you should come live here. It's the Black House. You're a Black.*

Draco knows he's grinning like a silly schoolboy, or worse, like a Hufflepuff lovesick girl, but right in this moment, he doesn't care. And when Harry leans toward him to kiss him, it matters even less.

HP-HP-HP-HP

"Harry, wake up! It's over, I've got you. Harry!"

Harry is panting and sobbing, his body shakes with uncontrollable shudders and he holds on Draco with an almost painful grip.

"It's just a nightmare, it's alright."

Draco lays down and takes Harry with him, letting him snuggle close, his tear-stained face hidden in his shoulder.

*Tell me you won't leave. Even if it's not true, tell me you won't. Everyone I love just leaves. Please, Draco.*

Everyone he loves. Salazar, it's bittersweet and heartbreaking, to know that Harry loves him. To know that he's so afraid to lose Draco. Of course, in the four months they've been together, there have been little clues, some almost spoken words, especially after bad nightmares like tonight, but it's the first he really says it. And is Draco able to tell the raven-haired man how much he cares? He takes Harry's face in his hands, lifting it so that he can meet the green eyes.

"Harry… I won't leave. Don't you know that by now? I won't leave, not if you want me to stay. Not if I can help it. And Merlin knows I do not plan to die anytime soon. Besides, technically I can't leave. This is my flat."

*You're really a prat, you know that?*

"You know you love it."

He kisses Harry, just like he knows the other man likes it, and Harry moans against his lips, a deep and soft sound that Draco loves. Just like everything else about Harry, really. The way he always takes care of others. The way he stood up for Draco, at the beginning of their relationship, rallying his friends around them like a fiercely protective shield, until the public and the newspapers calm down a little. The way he hums to himself when he's happy – and Draco is quite proud to say that Harry is humming a lot these days. The way he moves, silently and easily, like a cat. The way all his emotions show in those green eyes of his.

"I love you" he blurts out suddenly, and he wants to slap himself for letting himself be so caught in the moment. But Harry's smile is blinding and his hands have found their way under his pajamas.

*I know. I love you too.*

Draco guesses it's not so bad, all that feeling stuff. One gets easily used to it.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Harry cannot stop looking at his lover. Draco looks so relaxed in his sleep. And the shadows under his eyes have disappeared as well. He looks healthier and younger now that they're together. Usually, it's Harry who reaches for Draco even in his sleep, who clings to the other man like a pitiful child. Draco doesn't seem to mind, always allowing Harry to hold him, always smiling when they wake up entangled together. But tonight, Draco is draped over Harry, his blonde head resting on the dark curls of Harry's chest.

The sarcastic blonde is always cool and witty around others, but there's a softer side of him. A side that only Harry knows, that only belongs to him. This man who's sleeping naked, his normally perfect hair mussed and sweaty from their earlier lovemaking, looking so peaceful and unguarded, only belongs to him. The one who's so caring, so loving, and so insecure too, only belongs to him. And Merlin, how he loves him.

He raises his hand to look at his brand new bonding ring. The white golden ring shines in the dark, a beautiful reminder of what happened today. Of how they linked their fates and their lives together. Of the tears in Draco's eyes as Ron read the vows Harry had wrote. Of the wonderful pain in his own chest as Draco read his, the carefully spoken words piercing his heart, especially coming from such a secretive and guarded man.

And in spite of their past history, in spite of Draco's guilt and Harry's nightmares, in spite of all the hateful mail and the whispered insults in the streets, Harry knows it will be alright. He knows it, because there's this wonderful feeling of finally belonging somewhere. And that means something.

Tomorrow he will cook pancakes for breakfast, with too much maple syrup, because that's how Draco loves them, and Draco will make tea, not too strong, because that's how Harry likes it. And they will go to Shell Cottage and have lunch with the whole Weasley family and a few friends to celebrate their bonding. And it's good to have so much love to give, so much love to receive. Yes, they will be alright. Harry closes his eyes and lets sleep take him, wrapping his arms more tightly around Draco.

**AN:** All done! It was so much fun to write! Thanks to all my readers, and all the wonderful persons who took the time to leave much appreciated reviews. It's completely addictive to write here, you know. So I guess I'll be back soon...

In the meantime, you can read my other fic "**The Tombstone**". Take care, have fun, enjoy life - and never forget how wonderful and unique you are!


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